The Taming
by CourtneyHowlett
Summary: After trespassing and taken captive by the shapeshifters to become personal servant to their princess, Isabella Swan has caught the eye of the princess' dangerous, yet beautiful brother. He's captivated by her; he'd always been. She's unresponsive to his charm, but he's not one to give up very easily. (J/B, AU, OOC)
1. Prologue-- Ch 1 The Capture

The Taming

**Author's Note:** Hi all! So happy you decided to open this story and give it a chance. I'm really thankful. Anyways, this story is the one that comes after the masterpiece, and I can only hope it lives up to Sinful Seduction. I'm pretty excited about this one. I wanted to write another one like SinSed because I don't know about you, but I get pretty bored with the stories being somewhat unoriginal on here. Nothing with fantasy or the hard-action romance like I want. So my motto is: if you can't find it to read it, write it! This is another one that's been in my head for a while. This starts off with a prologue and chapter one because I'm weird and I hate posting separate prologues because than chapter one will show up as chapter _two_. Ugh. No. Enjoy the first prologue/chapter (:

**Here's the summary**: _After trespassing and taken captive by the shapeshifters to become personal servant to their princess, Isabella Swan has caught the eye of her dangerous, yet beautiful brother. He's captivated by her; he'd always been. She's unresponsive to his charm, but he's not one to give up very easily._

** Prologue**

Isabella couldn't sleep. The only thing that could help her was to walk out in the woods behind her little wooden house. She could let her thoughts run wild and she could unwind in peace.

Her aunt Constance was always making her do the household chores and watch after her horrid little cousins, Maud and Elise. They found any excuse to tattle on her. And aunt Constance was relentless with her beatings; she'd bring Isabella over her bony knee and slap her bottom till it was red raw.

She was only six years old and doing the chores, tending to the children, and cooking meals while her aunt Constance played cards, smoke and drank with her uncle Phillip's drunkard friends.

Isabella's parents had died when she was very young, aunt Constance had said. She also said that she didn't want Isabella, but she'd already promised her mother and father that she'd take care of her. Aunt Constance's way of making her pay for her shelter was to force Isabella to do anything and _everything_.

Sometimes she felt like she was paying for even being born.

Grumbling, the little girl kicked a stone into the water. She gazed out into the trees in front of her. It was only a few steps away. She leaped over the little bubbling creek and forced her way into the woods.

She held up her lantern and it illuminated the path before her. She did this every so often, and felt comfortable letting herself out of the house at night because she'd never been caught yet. She shivered at the thought of what her aunt Constance would do to her if she did ever happen to find out.

_Oh well,_ she thought. _She hasn't found me all this time, and she won't find me tonight._

As she made her way deeper into the forest, she proceeded to get this gut feeling that someone was watching her. Someone was following her.

Isabella tried to turn around, but as she turned around, she noticed that everything all looked the same. The surroundings looked the same. The twisted, crooked trees hid the moon and she couldn't see her path anymore.

She'd never been lost in the forest before. Maybe she was over-thinking things, and the path was right next to her. She held up her lantern and tried to find the path, but nothing seemed to give. Whimpering, she tried to retreat into the shadows to find her way back.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew and the candle in her lantern flickered. She gasped, seeing a tall figure standing about a quarter-mile away from her, staring straight at her.

Horrified, she stood as still as a statue. The moonlight shone on the figure's face and revealed two blood red eyes and a smile with teeth so sharp that they looked like they sever someone in half with just one bite.

An _immortal_.

She turned and ran, even though she already knew that her case was hopeless. Immortals were incredibly fast and strong—they could be by your side in less than five seconds and snap your neck in only two. They never died unless they were killed and burned; drinking the blood of humans helped them to thrive as long as they did.

The situation was so dire that when she tripped over a branch, she submitted herself to the immortal and hoped that it was a merciful one, and killed her quickly. As she looked up, she could see him towering over her. She let out a scream when he smiled at her, revealing those incredibly terrifying teeth.

He grabbed her wrist when she tried to beat away at him and slashed her there, watching with hunger as the blood poured from her skin.

A twig's snapping distracted him for a split second. It was probably another one of his kind, helping him to finish her off. But the howl that echoed through the forest seemed to startle the immortal. He glared down at her and grabbed her by the neck, getting ready to sink his teeth into her.

Suddenly, a giant black wolf collided with the side of the immortal's body, knocking him away from her. She scrambled backwards, fear consuming her. More giant wolves emerged from the forest and began attacking the immortal, shredding him apart as the immortal's screams echoed through the forest.

She grabbed her lantern and cowered into the corner with a hand over her wound. A smaller, brown wolf emerged from the forestry behind the girl and poked her on the shoulder. She refrained from screaming, only because the wolf didn't look like it wanted to eat her.

It began to lick her, on her arms and hands until eventually it got to her wound. She flinched when the pink tongue lashed out to touch the wound, but eventually let the wolf lick all of the blood away. As soon as the painful cut was there, it was gone, with only a silvery scar left in its wake.

The brown wolf trotted back and forth down the path, whining. She stood on her feet and decided to see what it wanted. It darted off into the woods, leading her through the path.

And she followed the small brown wolf through the woods. It stopped to wait for her when she got tangled up in tree branches and vines and brushed against her legs, whining softly when it thought that danger was near.

Soon enough, she was back to the edge of the forest. She could see her aunt Constance's house in the distance. She looked down to thank the wolf, but it was already gone.

**Chapter One: The Capture**

"Hold still," I mumble as I stitch closed the gaping hole in Elise's new dress. She whines and stands up straighter.

"If you stick me, I'll tell mother that you did it on purpose," she hisses, her flaming red hair bouncing around her face in ringlets. "She'll give you more chores because I said so."

I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to hold myself together. "I promise I won't stick you, Elise. Just hold still, and it'll be a guarantee."

"You'd best make me look pretty for Hans," she grumbles, standing straight and still so I could finish stitching.

I glare back at her, but she doesn't see it. She's too busy glossing her lips with a rosy red paint that I'd made for her. _I should have added some belladonna berries in there,_ I think to myself.

One part of me tells myself not to think in such a way, but the other tells me to go right ahead with what I'm doing. I knot the thread and pull away from Elise as she hops down from the small wooden stool she'd been standing on.

She rushes out of the room without even thanking me and rushes down the stairs. "Isabella!" Aunt Constance screeches from the bottom of the steps. I rush to go meet her, not wanting to make her wait for me. I wasn't afraid of her anymore like I was when I was six, but it was just a habit—I'd been serving her every need for so long that it just became permanently stamped into my brain.

I rush down the creaky brown stairs to meet her. Aunt Constance has her frizzy orange hair decorated with a violet hat that looked to small for her head, and a too-tight violet dress that made her curves much too noticeable. She gives me a crooked smile, her yellow teeth flashing at me. "There y'ar, Isabella," she says, handing me a crumpled piece of parchment. "Your list o' chores while we're away. Lisey and Maud are goin' to meet their suitors and me and yer uncle are going to the Blue Serpent. Now don't waste no time, Isabella. We'll be home by midnight so you'd best get started awful quick!"

She cackles before turning on her heel and walking straight to the door. I watch as she tries to fit her large hips through the doorframe with little luck. Uncle Phillip comes from the kitchen with a pipe sticking out of his mouth. He sees her and rolls his eyes. "Whattaya know," he says. "What did I tell ya 'bout wearin' them bustles? Y'always get stuck in them doors."

Aunt Constance growls at him. "Just help me, will ya?" I watch as Phillip gives two big shoves before Aunt Constance is successfully out of the doorframe. She fans herself with her lacy handheld fan as she looks at my scrawny uncle. "Oh, Phil."

"Git goin'," he slurs, pushing past her and trudging down the porch.

Aunt Constance looks at me and frowns. "Why are ya just standin' there? I just gave ya all them chores. Go on. Git!" And with that, she slams the door in my face.

I sigh and turn to go back upstairs, unfolding the list before me. It reaches my knees. I sigh again, but this time I shrug my shoulders as well. I'm used to the length by now.

Returning to my little dusty attic room, I pack up my sewing supplies and stand up, smoothing down my raggedy blue frock. My hair is braided back out of my face like it normally is—I've never done anything special with it, never worn a pretty dress, never met a suitor.

It was mostly because aunt Constance refused to let me marry before her unattractive daughters did—and she didn't want some man to take her personal house slave away from her.

I watch as Maud and Elise fret with their hair as the coachman pulls down the stone path. I take in a deep breath and then exhale, my shoulders drooping. Aunt Constance and uncle Phillip were undoubtedly going to get drunk again at the local bar, the Blue Serpent.

It was a pity I have to stay inside, too. I'd not seen a prettier spring day than today. A gay breeze floats through the window and kisses my face. The breeze carries the scent of fresh lilac and dewdrops. The fields behind my house were overpopulated with colorful wildflowers and fresh green grass.

I bite my lip as I'm contemplating what I should do. Stay in and do my chores all day, or live a little? I've been cleaning this house for too long. Everything already looked spotless from my head-to-toe cleaning yesterday evening.

I fold up the list nicely and set it down on my creaky little bed. It was time to do something that _I_ wanted to do…and that didn't involve household chores. I get up and push away from the windowsill, walking down the steps. I see my muddy leather boots by the door—I had no nice shoes since all of the money went towards Elise and Maud. Most of the dresses I had were all stitched by my own hand.

I slip the boots on and reach my hand out to touch the wooden doorknob. My fingertips tremble and I bite my lip_. Live a little_, I tell myself. _Go on, do it. Open the door and live_.

I push it open and I'm blasted with the feeling of being free and peaceful. I step out of the house and lock the door, not bothering to look back.

I walk to the edge of our property and kneel next to the creek to splash some cool water onto my face. It's so refreshing and rejuvenating. It feels like a lifetime since I'd been out here. When I wipe the water out of my eyes, I can see straight into the forest. I hadn't snuck out of the house to wander into that forest for ten years—not since I was almost killed by that immortal when I was six years old.

It still befuddles me about what happened. How did those wolves get so large? Where did they come from? Why didn't they attack me? Why did that little brown one choose to save me? So many questions. Too many questions.

I sigh and sit by the edge of the creek again. I wonder what would happen if I dare venture into those same woods again. I wonder what I'd find in that haven of secrets.

I stand up. I'm sixteen years old, almost an adult. It had been years since anyone was attacked and killed by an immortal, anyways.

I have a lot of time to pass anyways.

And with that, I take my first step into the forest. And once I take that first step, I will myself to keep on going. The sun shines beautifully through the trees and casts a flickering shadow down onto the grassy path.

It's been ten years since I last went wandering through these woods, and I wonder if I still know where to go. I look down at my wrist and at the silvery scar that was there. And I remember the night of my attack, and the courageous little brown wolf that saved me.

I'd pushed the memories away for so long and tried to forget what had happened, but a constant reminder still makes itself known upon my wrist in the form of said silvery scar. And the eyes of that sweet wolf were forever engrained into my mind.

It had been so very long since I'd been out exploring in the forest—and it had been so long since I'd seen its beauty. All of the blossoming flowers and serene breezes and the gentle chirps of birds hanging from twisting tree branches.

I venture deeper and deeper into the forest, not caring in the least if I ever find my way out. That way I'd never have to go back to aunt Constance and clean for the rest of my unfortunate life.

I come about an intersection in the trees and I debate upon which route I should take. The right path looks exactly the same as the left, but the left path has a certain edge to it that drawled me there.

About an hour into the expedition, I realize that I've been walking around aimlessly for much too long. And the carefree spirit that I'd possessed earlier seems to be disappearing as the sky seems to darken a little more with every step I take.

I hoist myself up over a fallen log and continue on my way. The fringed edges of my old blue frock catch on one of the sharp branches and tear a little piece off. I pull my dress away and examine it. It's been beat up worse, I decide, and move along.

As I continue on, the path I'd opted to follow seems to have disappeared right beneath my feet. Lost, again. And to top it all off, I can hear heavy footfall coming my way in the distance.

I decide that I don't want to deal with another immortal and hide in a small patch of weeds behind a tree trunk. The heavy footfall gets louder as people near me. A tall man bursts out of the brush near me, wielding a sharp sword. In his left hand there's a rope and tied to it is a wolf hybrid, sniffing the ground and growling.

I shrink lower in horror. I start to back up but I'm stopped by the feeling of cool metal to the back of my neck. My eyes widen. "Do not move," a thick accent growls. Shivering in fear, I have no choice but to obey.

The largest one, which I presume to be the leader, whistles and the rest of his four colleagues come rushing to his side. They all look at me with their dark eyes narrowed with uncertainty.

All five men are so unusually beautiful, a refresher from the dirty men I'd usually see on the roads when I'd go the market square for more fruit and vegetables. With wide-eyed fear, I suck in a breath and smash myself into the tree with fear.

Now I can really see them all. They have longer black hair that reaches the tops of their copper-toned shoulders, and even goes a little longer on some of them. They all have tattoos on their right biceps and paintings of handprints and tribal patterns on their toned stomachs.

And the thing I notice most is their height and body mass. I've never seen such huge men. They all look so powerful, so dominant. They could snap my neck just by flexing their arms.

They have deerskin pants and leather belts strung with sharp knives and other weapons. Fine beads, jewels and teeth were hanging about a piece of twin around their necks. The tallest man steps back, withdrawing his sword slowly. "You are trespassing on shapeshifter land," he growls at me.

I'm so afraid that words can barely get past my lips. "I…I was only walking through the forest behind my...my house. I did not know…"

All five men frown at me. "One does not simply walk onto our land," the second tallest says with a dark brow raised, mistrust evident in his stormy eyes. "You must have been walking for hours."

The third man's face turns bright red. "What are your motives, bitch? Are you an assassin? A spy?" He's shaking with such anger that I'm afraid he might burst.

"Lahote, calm yourself," the tallest one barks out sternly. Then he nods at the rest of his men. "We'll let the king decide what to do with her."

My hearts to pound inside of my chest. "No," I whisper. "Don't. Don't touch me!" The fiery one they called "Lahote" comes straight at me like an angry bull and hoists me over his shoulder. I kick and scream but the effort is relentless. Before I can even register it, they've got my hands and feet tied together. "No, no, no! I beg your mercy, just let me go!"

"Shut her up before they hear," growls Lahote. The shortest one nods and reaches into his leather belt and pulls out a blue crystal flask, shoving it into my mouth. I struggle, but the liquid's forced down my throat.

And my whole world fades to black all too quickly.

0o0o0o0o

When I open my eyes, I see the same tall man hovering over me. _Leader. _"Make yourself decent, girl," he growls. "You are in the presence of the king."

I sit up, a searing pain in my lip bringing me to consciousness faster. I lift my fingers to my lip and am horrified to see the bright red blood on my fingertips. The blood rolls down my chin and I catch it with the sleeve of my dress.

I look towards the leader with confusion but he refuses to look at me. I lean forward onto all fours, smearing blood onto the cold marble floors before standing up onto my wobbly legs. It's a huge room—a beautiful one, at that—and it is decorated with gold and silver and many beautiful jewels. Paintings of beautiful women and wolves and tribal legends; mounted heads ranging from those of great wolves to elk, deer, and vicious bears.

I must be in the shapeshifter kingdom of Canavar.

I look straight ahead. There is an old man with a crown sitting upon his graying hair lounging on a tall throne made of white marble and red velvet. His brows furrow together and he leans forwards to take a closer look at me.

The king waves his hand at me. "Explain."

The leader steps forward and points at me. "My King, we found her trespassing in the Black Forest this afternoon. A human girl from the nearby kingdom of Bravos."

"Bravos?" the king ponders. Then he turns his menacing eyes down to me. "Are you a spy? An assassin? If you tell the truth, you shall not be punished."

"No promises," a young man that looks like he's seen about 20 summers, says smugly, standing by the king. His hair is cropped close to his shoulders and he ties it back into a little bun on the back of his head. He is taller than even the _leader_ and more beautiful than all five of the men that captured me combined.

He has a beautifully sculpted face with deep hollows in his cheeks and a square jaw that sported a cleft chin. Wisps of hair fall around his face and those dark eyes framed with dark lashes land on me. My eyes widen and I cower back a little from his words. He smiles evilly at my reaction.

I look back to the king and shake my head. "I am no spy, your highness. My…my name is Isabella Swan and I live by the edge of the Black Forest in the kingdom of Bravos. I am not but a maid in my own house. I beg your mercy. Please. Let me go. I have done no wrong."

The king rubs his chin with his hand. Then he looks at the leader. "Samuel, where did you find this girl again?"

The leader, whose name is apparently Samuel, clears his throat. "At the intersection of the Ives, near the Red River," he replies.

The king seems to ponder again. "Well," he says. "She's not like any spy I've ever caught before." His men chuckle.

Overcome with relief, I let out a loud sigh.

The king's eyes narrow again. "Don't misinterpret my words, girl. We do not trust you. You stay _here_ until we can." And at that moment, every single fiber of my being seems to go numb as my worst fears come to light. "And you say you clean, hmm?"

As I stare straight ahead I can feel the young man's menacing eyes on me. I nod my head. "Y-Yes, your majesty." I agree.

I'm distracted by the young man's departure. He turns his back on everyone and his massive, powerful body walks down from the platform that the king sat elevated on.

_He must be a guard,_ I think. _He was menacing just to look at._

He slinks off into the shadows and it was just like he'd never been there at all. I shiver and turn my focus back onto the king when I hear him clear his throat. "You will be a servant in this palace," he announces to me. "And until trust is formed between us, you shall go nowhere, little one."

A young woman stands up beside the king. "My father, I should have her. She could be my personal servant, and that way one of us would always be watching her." The king motions her to sit.

"We cannot trust her with you, my child," the king says softly.

The princess stands again. "I know how to defend myself," she growls. "Let me, I beg you. I wish to do something to help. To ease your burdens these days is the only thing that could make me truly happy."

The king grumbles, but nods his head anyways. "You," he addresses me. "Go with my daughter. Tend to her every need. If you try to harm her, I can promise that your head will be on a stake."

My face pales and I can feel my stomach churn but I nod my head anyways. The princess motions for me to follow her down the hallway. Samuel unties my hands and my feet and nods at me to move. "Go," he grinds out.

I follow her into the dark corridor. I can barely see as the lights from the throne room fade out just as the sun sets each night. They are dimly lit by torches mounted in posts on the walls. The princess is beautiful in her very own way. She has long scars running down the sides of her face but I can barely see them in the light. I rub my chilled hands in fear of the unknown.

Her long black hair nearly reaches the backs of her knees. She leads me to her room at the end of one long corridor. She pushes the doors open, revealing a room furnished in red. Her bed, the great canopy over it, the curtains, the chairs, the sofas, all the way to the flowers.

"Suppose you like red," I say in a small voice, looking around. This room was the most beautiful room I'd ever seen. The princess tends to the fire roaring in the hearth and goes about lighting the candles in the room.

"'Tis my favorite color," she replies with a small smile. "How could you tell?"

My face turns bright red. This is the first time someone's ever joked with me. Though I'd joked with myself plenty of times in my head, I'd never really done it with a real live human being before. Constance and her evil twin serpents were always so serious.

"I am Emiline," she introduces herself. "Princess of Canavar. But I'm sure you already know that half of me."

She pulls out a handkerchief and goes toward me. I flinch when she touches it to my bleeding lip. She dabs at it softly. "However did you do this?" the princess asks.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" she says with a hint of humor in her tone. She pulls away the handkerchief and hands it to me so that I may wipe the excess blood off of my hands. "How odd.

She goes and sits down on one of her comfy-looking red chairs by the fire. Emiline looks up at me with curious eyes. I try to give her a smile, but I can't say I'm particularly happy about my predicament. "Do you not know how to sit, Isabella?" I gasp and go to sit in the chair next to her. She smiles and stares into the fire. "Speak," comes the order.

I look up at her with my brow raised. "And what would you have me say?"

"Tell me why you are really here," she replies. "I wish to know the truth. Perhaps even your story."

"Well…" I whisper. "I told the truth to your father. I was only walking behind my house and I got a bit tied up in the beauty of the forest. I'd not been in there since I was little, and it was all so beautiful. I suppose I lost track of time and ventured too far. That's when they found me."

"Samuel?"

"Yes, I believe that's his name." I confirm. "And there were four others too, but I do not know what they are called."

"They are part of the kingsguard," Emiline tells me. "There's Samuel, the leader of them all. Then there's Paul, Embry, Jared and Quil."

I nod my head. "And Lahote…who is he?"

"Oh," she laughs. "That's Paul. He's quite the hothead isn't he?"

"Yes," I agree. "But why do they call him Lahote?"

She sighs. "Oh, the guard call themselves by their surnames mostly. They think they're being secretive by using those names. If you want to familiarize, I'll tell you. There's Samuel _Uley_, Paul _Lahote_, Jared _Cameron_, Embry _Call_, and Quil _Ateara_."

I nod my head. "Alright."

Emiline sits back in her chair. "Now tell me your story."

I shake my head, looking down at my hands. "I do not know what you mean by _story_."

"Everyone has a story, Isabella. Where did you come from? What kind of woe did you experience during your younger years, if you experienced any?" she pleads.

I stare into the fire and watch the flames devour the blackened logs. "My mother and father died when I was very young, so my aunt and uncle were forced to take me in. They didn't want me, and they made it apparent. My aunt Constance would make me clean and cook and take care of all of the household chores while her two daughters would be spoiled. Everything they needed or wanted was in their hands at their beckon call."

I look back at the princess, finished with my story. She shakes her head. "More," she says. "There's more, and you're not telling me that."

"I do not—"

She cuts me off. "Tell me about the forest. Why hadn't you been there in a very long time?" I pause and then look down at my feet, my face paling. She can see my obvious discomfort. "You can tell me, Isabella. We'll be spending a lot of time together so I suppose it's better to get this over with now."

"I was attacked," I finally say.

Emiline opens her mouth to say something, but she stops. "In the Black Forest?" I nod my head. She seems like she's pondering something but doesn't want to say anything.

I don't even have to say anything for her to know that I'd survived an immortal attack. She just nods her head and looks out the window. "I saw you looking at my scars," she whispers. Three pink, fleshy scars run across the right side of her face, pulling at the corner of her eye and mouth.

"Oh no, Emiline, I…"

"No, it's alright. The only reason why I'm pointing that out is that…I too, was attacked. As if it wasn't already plain as day. But the point is, I understand." Emiline explains. "I know everyone stares at me like I've three heads, but I'm used to it now."

The stars were already shining in the sky. I don't bother asking her how. She seems somewhat distressed by it all, so I don't push the subject. I gape at the time. Gods above, how the time has passed.

She looks at me with a softened look in her eyes. "Help me change, will you?"

I stand from my seat and follow her. _Here I am,_ I think. _A slave in a house to a slave in a castle. What an improvement in life I've made._

I help Emiline out of her dress and untie her corset for her until she's in her small clothes. She points to the white silk nightdress hanging in her closet. I take the beautiful material into my hands and help her slip it on. She pulls her gorgeous long hair out of the collar and lets it flow down her back. "Ah. Thank you," she says.

I blink. _Thank you?_ No one has ever said thank you to me before. I grant her with a small smile.

She looks to the door. "I suppose I should show you to your chambers. They are right next to mine, and I am sure you have had a long day. A well deserved rest to you, Isabella."

She leads me out of the door and points directly in front of her to a slender white door with a golden handle. I open it, amazed at what I see—a nice, warm bed with golden sheets and a large window with moonlight filtering through it. Golden curtains, and wooden tables crafted beautifully by hand. Even my very own hearth and soft chair.

"Oh, thank you!" I whisper to her. She nods her head.

Emiline stares at me and purses her lips. "I think I shall call you Bella. It is more fitting for you," she declares. I nod my head. My parents used to call me Bella. It was the only thing that I remembered of them. Their sweet voices in my head, calling me that nickname.

I nod my head. "I like that."

"Get some rest," she whispers. "And do wake me tomorrow at sunup."

I nod again. I was already up early in the mornings anyways. She bids me goodnight one more time before closing the door. I pounce on my bed, stripping out of my dress. I can't believe what's happened today.

I was captured by a band of huge, intimidating men and brought to a large castle in the kingdom of Canavar, hidden in the Black Forest. Then I was threatened by a beautiful mysterious man before I was made personal servant to the princess.

I smile at the thought over never having to go back to aunt Constance. Even though my role of servant didn't change, I knew things here would be better.

I roll off of the bed and bounce over to the window. The moon was so large tonight and shining. So many things were racing through my head at that moment in time. But mostly, the eyes of that mysterious man lingered there.

He seemed so mysterious to me, and dangerous. I'd never felt such strong emotion channeled towards me. His interest piqued as well and those dark eyes seemed to stare directly through me.

I shake the thought away. He probably despises me. He probably thinks that I have come to kill them or pass along secrets that are unknown to me. I sigh and collapse on my bed. _Tomorrow,_ I think. _Tomorrow I'll think this over._

0o0o0o0o

Ahh, how was it? I feel like I've kind of put a Cinderella feel onto it, but it's not the sappy lovestory that we all know and love. Jacob will eventually come in, even though he wasn't really in this chapter all too much. Expect him to make his way into the next chapter. Also, please **review**. I feel that **reviews** are really essential for the first chapter to let me know how I've done and if I want to decide to continue this journey. Also, one question…are you excited for dark, dangerous and lustful Jacob?

I know I am. (:

Courtney xx


	2. A Name

_The Taming_

**Author's Note**: Super duper pleased with the reviews from last chapter! I can see that this story's already a hit off with you guys. Makes me so happy, you have no idea. Sorry this took so long to come out! With cheerleading every day and super hard math tests getting in my way, my computer's missed me way too much. Also, I had some issues with age. Bella is 16 and Jacob is 20. Yes, Jake's 4 years older than her. I had some of you worrying about Bella's fire. She'll still have it, don't you worry. I'm planning on having Bella turn 17 pretty soon, anyways. BANNER UP FOR THE TAMING ON dcmllbeautifulmess . blogspot. com Without further ado, here is chapter two. (I know it rhymes lol.)

**Chapter Two**: _A Name_

I wake up the next morning to the sun shining brightly in my eyes. I stretch out a bit and yawn loudly. The realization hits me like a train on a track—I'm no longer in Bravos. I sit up abruptly and look around. My new room is still as beautiful as it was when I fell asleep beneath the moonlight last night.

I see a nice dress laid out for me on the chair. It's nowhere close to the grand things that Emiline wears, but it's ten times as good then what I normally wear. I slip out from underneath the covers of my bed and go over to the chair. The dress is draped there.

It is brown with golden threading on the bodice and golden lace on the bottom. I undress myself and free my body from my old raggedy blue frock and slip on the new attire. It fits me like a glove, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel proud of what I am wearing.

I remember Emiline's wish—that I wake her—and I rush out the door and across the hall to the two large white doors that shielded the princess's ruby red chambers. I knock twice on the doors and wait for a response.

"Bella?" comes the soft voice.

"Yes," I reply.

"Come in, then."

When I open one of her doors, she is still laying in her bed, wrapped beneath her wine-colored blankets. She smiles at me as I shut the door. "Good morning," I tell her.

"Yes," she yawns and stretches in her bed before pushing down the covers and swinging her long copper legs over the edge. "It is, isn't it?"

I watch her as she walks past me in her long white nightgown, her black hair flowing down her back. She goes to the great wooden wardrobe standing tall in the corner of her red room and swings the doors open. I watch her as she selects a brilliant ruby dress, one I could only dream to wear.

She turns around and slips off her nightgown, letting the beautiful piece of silk fall to the floor. "Hand me those small clothes there," she whispers, pointing to the white corset and long white underwear.

She slips them on. I tighten the strings of her corset until she's satisfied with the results. Then, I help her put on the beautiful red dress.

Once it's all done, she looks at herself in a shiny mirror before glancing up at me. "How do you do your hair?" she asks, referring to my fuzzy braid that looked rather beaten up from my sleeping on it last night.

"It is a braid," I reply. "Do you not know what those are?"

"No," Emiline replies. "Braid my hair, Bella. I want my hair like yours."

I look at her long, thick black hair and inwardly groan. It would take forever to finish braiding that. But I did so anyways, finishing on the tenth minute. She touches it and spins around in shock and awe, admiring the way it falls down her back like a thick black rope.

I sit down in the red velvet chair and look at her. She squeals with excitement. "Oh, how beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so very much." Then she seems to try and calm herself down, going to the casket in which her crown was stored, opening it, and placing the fragile piece of gold atop her head.

There comes a knock at the door only a second later. "Breakfast is served, my lady," speaks the voice of a timid young maid.

Emiline turns to me and urges me to stand. "You may sit at the maid's table in the corner of the dining hall," she tells me. "I sit at the table with the royals and nobles."

I nod my head absently. Nothing different there.

She opens the doors to her room and leaves me to close them behind her. Her brilliant red dress sweeps along the floors and her braid is thrown over her shoulder. "Follow me," she says, looking back at me with her scarred face. "The dining hall's this way."

I push my unruly hair out of my eyes and let it flow over my shoulders. Emiline makes a right and turns a sharp corner. And when I follow her, I see the madness that is the dining hall.

She instantly greets people, kissing their cheeks and laughing and smiling and conversing with colleagues. Having been so alone all my life, the amount of people stuffed inside of the grand room was rather overbearing.

I exhale and make my way through the crowds. I'm jostled and pushed around like I'm some sort of rag-doll. I don't think I've ever felt more uncomfortable and out of my element in all of my life.

One shove is enough to send me flying through the crowds and straight into a wall. When I look up, it's no wall that I've hit. It's a man. It's that guard that threatened me when the king of Canavar had been questioning me. It's him. It's "no promises" (my mind has subconsciously transferred to calling him No Promises since I don't know his name) and I'm practically draped across him.

No Promises uses his massive hands to push me back off of him and to steady me on my feet. My eyes are wide and my hair is flaming wildly around my face. I'm a wreck and he can see that.

"Perhaps," his smooth, baritone croons out. "You should watch where you're going." He narrows his dark eyes at me, wisps of black hair falling out from his little bun and framing his inhumanly beautiful face. I know that he still doesn't trust me.

"I didn't mean to," I say, my face burning red with embarrassment. "I'm sor—"

No Promises doesn't give me a chance to finish my sentence. He pushes past me rudely and makes his way further into the crowds until I can no longer see him. I look at my feet with a horrified look on my face.

I had just fell on top of the most beautiful man I'd ever seen and he wasn't exactly happy about it. It wasn't your fault, I reassure myself. Those people pushed you into him.

When I pick up my head, I can see a small, pixie-like woman standing in front of me. She has big brown eyes and pale skin. Her chocolate hair is cropped very short but it doesn't look bad at all. "Hello," she chirps. "Are you new here?"

I nod my head and take her hand when she offers it to me. The small woman tugs me through the crowds with surprising efficiency until we reach the corner of the room where a long wooden table is stationed. This must be the table that Emiline spoke of.

"Are you the personal servant to the princess?" the woman asks me, folding a napkin and laying it out by a shiny white plate.

"I suppose I am," I reply. No one really gave me a choice.

She pulls out the chair for me and tells me to sit. I look at her hesitantly. She nods her head, reassuring me that it was okay to sit here. I sit down in the seat and look up to see the rest of the women staring at me in wonder. "I'm Alice," the small woman says, offering her hand. I tell her my name as well. She welcomes me to Canavar in the best way she can. "I'm the maid of the other princess, Rachel. And that's Angelina—she's maid to princess Rachel's twin sister, Rebecca."

I nod my head. There were three princesses, then. "How many royals are there?" I ask curiously.

Alice leans her head back towards the ceiling in thought. "There are four that are in line for the crown. There's Princess Rachel, Princess Rebecca, Prince Jacob and Princess Emiline. You know, you're very lucky to serve Emiline. She's the kindest one out of all of them. Rachel's rather soft, but I feel for Angelina. Rebecca is the harshest one to deal with. She likes everything done a certain way, and if it's not done the right way, she'll throw a fit just like a little child. But don't tell Emiline I said that," she says, shaking her hands. "No, no, no. I don't need my head chopped off because I bad-mouthed Princess Rebecca."

Angelina chuckles. "She's eyes like a hawk and ears like a bat. Beware of what you say around her."

I nod my head. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Alice smiles at me. "Oh, I believe you."

I bite my lip. "What is Prince Jacob like?"

Angelina and the other ladies around her all sigh. "He's like a dream," Angelina says. "He is the most beautiful man in all of Canavar."

"But," Alice interjects loudly. "He's temperamental, harsh and incredibly rude." She sticks her nose up into the air. "All of the beautiful men are."

I look at Angelina. "Does he get angry easily?"

She nods her head, her black hair falling into her eyes. "Unfortunately so," she whispers. "He's very…hard on the outside, if you are able to comprehend that. He puts his walls up and refuses to let anyone close to him. When he gets angry, he tends to smash things with those mighty fists of his."

"I remember he had a woman for more than one day once. You should know how he is—takes a whore to his bed every night. He goes through many a year; so many that I don't think he even knows the number of women he's slept with. Well anyways; her name was Jezebel and she fawned over him like any silly woman would. She irritated him so much, and one day he just lost it. They fought and she screamed at him, beating him with her fists. He pushed her away and she slammed into the wall, breaking her rib right in two." Alice chimes in with her brown eyes wide and sparkling. "He's known for his supernatural strength. I've seen him kill a man, Isabella." He crushed that poor soul's skull like one could crush a grape with their bare hands."

I shiver. I hope to never meet Prince Jacob.

Angelina rests her chin in her hands. "But he is still beautiful and he serves Canavar well. Someday he'll make a great king."

"That I'll give him," Alice says. "He is very powerful. More so than his father."

An older woman comes out of the door beside where our table sits and tells us it's time for dinner. Alice and Angelina wave me on towards the kitchen. "We have to serve the royals," Angelina explains. "Just carry your plate and whatever you do, don't drop the food."

She makes a slicing motion with her hand and runs her fingertips across her throat. My eyes widen. She smiles and pats my arm. "But I'm sure you'll do just fine."

The maids and servants file into the kitchen, grabbing plates of food from off of the countertops. After we make our full circle through the kitchen, we head back to the dining hall. I carry two steaming plates of eggs, sausages, and potatoes in my hands.

As we enter, the dining hall falls silent. The royals and nobles sit with their forks and knives in their hands, anxiously awaiting their meals to be set down before them. I go towards two women with jewels strung in their hair and set the plates down before them.

They turn without a 'thank you' and begin to prod at their sausage meat with their knives. I frown but I take a deep breath and look away. Wiping my sweaty hands on my dress, I try to push the nervousness away from me. I hate the uneasy feeling in my stomach.

I can see Emiline happily chatting with Samuel, the leader, the one that had brought me to Canavar. He makes her laugh and smile. He even chastely kisses the three long scars on the right side of her face. "You," a deep voice grinds out, making me jump an inch into the air. I instantly turn away from Emiline and Samuel.

I face No Promises, sitting with the rest of the guards. He eyes me carefully, his glorious black orbs roaming over every inch of my body. The calm feeling that I'd had while watching Emiline and Samuel was gone and replaced by the uneasy feeling once more. "Yes?" I ask softly.

He looks toward his cup. "Get the wine, girl."

I look behind me to see a cart rolling out of the kitchen with several pitchers sitting on it. I rush over to the cart and grab one of the pitchers. Peering into it, I can see the red liquid sloshing around in there.

I return to the table with the wine in my hand. No Promises holds out his goblet and allows me to fill it with the drink. He never takes his eyes off of me while I'm doing it, and those eyes keep on burning holes into me.

He's probably waiting for me to mess up and spill wine on him. Even though I'm shaky and nervous, I don't spill a single drop. I set the pitcher back down on the table and step back. He looks down at the drink and timidly takes a sip.

Then he looks up again. "Get us the bread, girl."

I turn around and grab a plate with slices of buttery bread. I set it down on the table next to the wine pitcher. The other guards help themselves to the bread. "Pour me wine, girl." Quil says, shoving his goblet in my face.

I pour the wine for Quil. Then Lahote shoves his goblet towards me too. "You'd best fill mine, girl."

I frown as I'm pouring the wine into Paul's cup. "I have a name," I hiss under my breath. I wasn't expecting anyone to hear me, but a cocky laugh draws my attention away from the pouring.

It's No Promises that is laughing at me. He turns his dark eyes onto me and curls his lips into a devious little smirk. "Then I beg you," he croons in his husky bass. "Enlighten us."

My heart begins to pound in my chest, but I'm saved when a little hand tugs me away from the scene. "I need you in the kitchen," Alice says. "There are still more people that need to be served. No time for talking just yet."

I nod my head. I'm more than willing to go with her.

0o0o0o0o

I'm sitting and I'm eating what's left of the food once the royals and nobles are finishing their meals. At Canavar, the servants eat last. I don't mind since it's all I've ever known, and neither do Alice and Angelina. They are kind people, and they are my only friends here in Canavar besides Emiline.

I do not even know if I can be considered a friend to Emiline, for she is a princess and I am but a captured servant girl.

I stab at my beef with my fork. It's cold, but still delicious. I finish my meal before Alice and Angelina do. I'd been hungry since last night before I'd gone to sleep.

Just ahead, I can see Emiline stand from where she sat at the table. She makes eye contact with me and nods her head towards the door. I'm finished with my plate, so I push in my chair and follow her, bidding farewell to Alice and Angelina. They smile and wave back at me.

I follow Emiline out of the dining hall and into the long corridor that leads to her room. She opens the doors to her chambers and flops herself down on her chair. "Wonderful breakfast, don't you think?" she asks me.

"Very good," I say, concealing the fact that my food was cold and there was little of it left. She stares out the window and watches the white clouds roll by in the sky.

"I trust everyone was kind enough to you, no?" she asks me in a soft voice. She is still tired. "The noblemen usually are."

"Yes," I say, once again ignoring the fact that the guards were ordering me around like a dog. Here girl. Fetch this, girl. Do that, girl. I inwardly cringe. Those men are beautiful, but I've been ordered around enough in my life.

I've been forced to come to Canavar and taken away from my horrid childhood. I'd escaped one nightmare—escaped being trampled on by people who were no better than I was. I'm not going to conceal my words anymore. I won't be talked down to anymore.

"You know what I could use, Bella?" Emiline asks. "I would love if you fetched me a glass of wine. I think it would help to wake me. I still have a picnic to go on this afternoon with a cousin of mine. I don't want to be too tired to go."

I sigh. Emiline, I think. She is an exception.

I walk out of her room and look around. I know enough that the dining hall is just around the corner, and the entrance to the kitchen is from within those walls. I walk to the kitchen with the intent of asking one of the cooks for an extra pitcher of wine.

My brown dress sweeps along the floors of the kitchen. My leather boots clack against the cold tile of the floors. The sunlight pours in through the windows, making the cold stone kitchen a sunny little haven.

Sure enough, I see the wine sitting on the same cart as it was for the breakfast meal. There are three unused pitchers. I pick up one pitcher. It's warm, so I put it back. The next one is colder than the first, so I choose that one and get ready to walk out of the kitchen.

When I turn around, I nearly spill the wine all over myself. "Gods above!" I cry out. I come face to face with No Promises. He's scared the living daylights out of me. The wine sloshes in the pitcher as my fingers fumble to get a grip on it.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his deep voice echoing throughout the kitchen. "You're not supposed to be in here."

I close my gaping mouth and stand up a little straighter. I don't want to look like a scared little child, even though I could feel the fear racing through my veins and pumping into my rapidly beating heart. "Princess Emiline sent me to fetch her some wine," I say. "That's why."

"Princess Emiline?" he repeats, his voice raising a little. He begins to walk, circling me like a predator does its prey. "What's in the pitcher?"

"Wine," I reply, my eyebrows raised. What is this interrogation?

He takes the pitcher roughly out of my hands and goes to the counter. He takes an empty goblet and fills it halfway with the wine. "Drink this," he orders.

I take the goblet and look at him like he's growing a second head out of his right shoulder. Then, the realization hits me like a brick in the back of the head. He's wanting to see if I poisoned the wine. I'm offended by this. I take the goblet and throw back the wine with ease.

Then I stare at him right into the eyes for a very long time, my brown hair framing my face. My mouth turns down into a frown. It seems like he can see how upset I am and his hardened features seem to soften just the slightest little bit.

The muscles in his jaw jump as he tenses and then relaxes. "I know that you do not trust me," I whisper. "I know that I'm foreign and new and I could be a potential threat. Just take my word…I would never hurt Emiline, or anyone for that fact. I told the truth to the king. I do not lie."

I take the pitcher out of his hand and begin to walk out the door.

"You still didn't tell me your name," he interjects.

I turn around and look at him. He's propping himself up on the counter, his bicep muscles bulging. He peers at me through the loose wisps of hair framing his face. I can see his smile from the doorway, even though it's faint.

"Why would you care?" I ask him, holding my pitcher in my arms a little tighter. "I'm just a servant."

He folds his arms and leans against the cabinets. His smile grows a little wider. "Well, I don't suppose I can go around calling you 'girl' all the time, can I?"

I raise my eyebrows. "You seemed to be doing it just fine at breakfast."

He should know my name. I said it when I first came here, I introduced myself. Maybe he didn't remember. Or maybe he was just jesting with me.

"Tell me your name," he whispers, closing the distance between us in three strides.

I tuck a tendril of hair behind my ear, backing away from him inch by inch. "When you learn to trust me, I'll tell you my name." I turn and walk away with the wine in my hand. "Sounds like a fair deal to me."

He calls out just one more time from the doorway where I'd been standing. "And what if I never trust you?"

I turn and look at him. "Then you will never know my name."

He steps forward with a challenging look on his face, coming out of the shadows with his signature smirk painted onto his lips. "And what if I just decide to ask Emiline your name?"

"That's fine," I say, shrugging. "But it will just ruin the fun."

And I leave him there, spluttering and shocked in my wake.

0o0o0o0o

So…how was chapter two?! I tried to make it more interesting with our pairing shining a bit in the night (or should I say morning). Please **review** and let me know how you liked this chapter and if you absolutely have a burning desire for me to write something into The Taming. More updates soon!

Courtney xx


	3. His Knowledge

_The Taming_

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews I got on the last chapter, it's so exciting to see you all responding and making lovely comments! Sorry for such the long wait. I had no time to write thanks to school and cheerleading and social life. Hope I didn't lose too many of you. Merry Christmas!

**Chapter Three: **_His Knowledge_

"Ah," she says as I close the door behind me, the wine in my hand. "Thank you."

I hand her the goblet and watch her drink it. She's done with it in less than a few seconds, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. There comes a knock at the door.

"My lady, your guests have arrived." A maid says. "They await you at the doors with their coach."

Emiline jumps up and opens the doors. Then she looks back at me. "Do stay out of trouble, Bella," she utters before rushing down the hall. She leaves me there in her room without a thing to do.

So I sit in her room and explore. I go through her jewelry and read the parchments that sit upon her white polished desk about the legends of the Canavarian people and their shapeshifting skills.

Apparently they'd been shapeshifting since the beginning of time, and some lucky few were able to shapeshift into more than one creature. Legend told of a man named Eirik Gornodl that was able to shift into a lion, wolf, bear, eagle, and even a giant serpent. Gornodl dominated the lands west of Bravos and Canavar and eventually died when stabbed through the heart by a common man's white iron sword.

I roll up the parchment and place it back onto the desk where it was found. Emiline wouldn't know I had been snooping though I was most confident that she wouldn't mind. I dared not to steal a single thing for I knew if I developed enough guts to do so, the king would probably mount my head on a wooden post.

I sit on the red velvet chair by the blazing fire and stare into the flames as they lick the wooden logs there. I find an extra goblet beside Emiline's and pour myself a goblet from the pitcher.

I'd not poisoned the wine. The sour memory of the encounter between No Promises and I was still pungent in the back of my mind. That man—he was so rude and so proud yet so painstakingly beautiful and enchanting.

I'm not going to fall for his charm. I don't know his name and I didn't care to ask when we'd talked because he didn't care to mention it. If his name was so important, then he would have said it.

I'm almost positive that he's a member of the kingsguard. He's one of the powerful shapeshifters that protect the kingdom from immortals and attacking humans. That's why he's so big and huge and intimidating; he's probably used to having people cower in fear in his presence, and women drop their knees at first sight of him.

I'm not going to be either of those people—I refuse to be afraid of him_. Fear is not real_, I try to tell myself. _It's just a choice._

I rest my head up against the backboard of my chair and shut my eyes for a moment.

0o0o0o0o

Apparently I'd fallen asleep for a couple of hours. I nearly have a heart attack when someone raps on the princess's door rather loudly. "Emiline!" a male voice yells. "Open the door." The pounding doesn't stop. Startled, I get up from my seat and rush to the door.

No Promises stands there, his irked expression fading away into a smug smile. "She's not here right now," I tell him and begin to shut the door in his face. His foot darts out and he stops the door from closing.

"Not so fast," he whispers, prying the door out of my fingers with ease. I'd never been a strong girl but this made me feel incredibly weak. I pull back from him and inch back into Emiline's room a little. "Long time no see." His sarcastic tone rings in my ears.

I sigh and shake my head in mock disbelief. "Do you wish to forfeit our game? Have you come to ask Emiline of my name?"

"No," he murmurs. "I have not. I wish to discuss a different matter with her. But I shall stay now."

I place my hand on the curve of my hip. "Then why have you come?" I ask him. "What do you want?"

"You," he replies, a little too quickly. My eyes bug out of my head. I do not know if he means it like he says it, but it seems so. "I want _you_. I wish to speak with you."

"Why?" I ask quickly. "I've done nothing wrong. I don't need another lecture about Emiline; I won't poison anybody—"

"Quiet yourself," he whispers. "You just interest me. That's all."

I gasp softly at his words. I interest him? What about me could possibly interest him? I am just a maid, and that's all I've ever been.

A young servant girl is running down the hallway, holding her white head-cloth to her hair. She curtseys before him. "Princess Emiline is in the grand hall waiting to speak with you."

He turns his burning black eyes off of me and down to her. He studies her face and watches it go from pale white to bright red. Then he smirks and nods his head, strands of silky black hair falling from where it is tied back into a bun. "Thank you, Ella." Then turns those intimidating eyes upon me. "We shall continue this later."

She looks like she is about to faint when he brushes past her and walks down the hall. Ella then looks at me. "Alice told me to come and get you," she says, much more informally as compared to the way she spoke to Jacob. "I do not know what she wants, only that she wants you."

I nod my head and close the door behind me as I follow Ella down the hallway. She points me to an old wooden door at the very end of the corridor. "That's her room," Ella says to me before turning her back on me and walking away in a cold fashion. I can tell that she doesn't like me.

I pick up my brown skirts and walk across the hallway to where Alice's room is. I can hear humming floating outwards from the inside, and a sweet lilac smell. I give a small knock, and instantly the humming stops. I can hear dainty feet scattering across the floor to the door. The knob turns and I'm face to face with the pixie-like woman who'd been the most friendly towards me when I'd first come.

"Isabella," Alice says. Her short hair is pushed behind her ears and she has a dirty apron tied around her small body. She grabs my arm and tugs me inside. "Welcome to my little heaven!"

The first thing I notice is the color of the room. It's painted a shade of dark green and decorated with plants hanging from the ceiling in little woven baskets. Around her chandelier are thick, twisting vines that ran across the walls and down towards a bright green plant in a giant red pot beside her bed.

Her bed is plain and her covers look like they were poorly sewn by hand, but Alice doesn't look like she minds it at all. She has a table with various flower plants on it and spices and herbs, and diagonal to the table across the room is a triple stacked shelf with vegetables growing there in little clay pots.

Alice whizzes by me with a watering can made out of a dried squash and begins to water the tall peach tree standing in the corner beside the giant window that filtered the sunlight into the little room. "I know what you're thinking," Alice whispers. "I'm crazy. But ever since I was little, I loved nature. The royals pretty much let you do whatever you wish with your room, so I figured that if I was going to be in her a lot, I'd personalize it."

I sit on her bed and look at the little strawberry plant growing on her bedside table. I pluck one and put it into my mouth. "It's a lovely room," I whisper. "It feels like I'm right in the forest."

Alice takes off her dirty cloth gloves and claps her hand, jumping on the balls of her feet. "Good! That's exactly what I was going for." Then she goes to her vegetable shelves and inspects the leaves of a ripe tomato. "Sometimes they forget to feed us, so I found it useful to grow some produce in here."

My eyes widen a little. I was used to being forgotten when it came time to eat, so it made me feel better knowing that Alice always had a little something in her personal room-garden. "What was it that you wanted me for?" I ask.

"My goodness, I almost forgot about that." Alice says, wiping her hands on her apron. "I wanted to tell you about some more things. I know that Emiline's a nice person to be around, but she won't tell you everything. 'Course she wouldn't, that'd make her look bad…"

She looks at the uneven floor boards down at our feet. "Are you okay?" I ask.

Alice's head snaps up and she gives me a cheesy smile. "Of course I am, silly!" She giggles a little. "Sometimes I get distracted—like I always do. You know, they never did fix my floor boards."

I look down to where she's looking and see a sleek black spider crawling up from a crack in the floor. I shrink back a little, for I'd remembered the time that Maud was bitten by one and her face swelled up like a rotten tomato. Alice bends down and allows the spider to crawl up onto her hand before putting it onto one of her plants.

She comes back to sit next to me a moment later. I look at her like she's just grown a second head, but she doesn't seem to care about anything. "Anyways, Isabella…I wanted to warn you about the guards."

I sit forwards a little. No Promises is a guard. "Okay," I say. "What about the guards?"

She lies down against her pillows and crosses her legs. "Well I heard some talk going around in the castle. They all think you're attractive, and I thought you should know that."

I turn and look at her. "They think me attractive?"

"Yes," Alice replies. "Very bad."

I wrinkle my nose a little. "Why is it very bad?" I'd never been deemed attractive before in my entire life and it felt good to be admired. Now Alice was saying that it was bad that they thought me attractive.

Alice turns her head to look at me, her brown eyes sympathetic. "You obviously don't know Canavar very well," she laughs softly. "When a guard thinks a maiden attractive he's given permission to take her."

My eyes widen. "Take…_take_ her?"

"Yes, yes, take. Do you not know what that means?" I say nothing, and Alice shakes her head. "Oh darling girl, I pray you are not ruined here."

I shake my head, my hair fanning out around me. "No, Alice. I shan't be taken. I won't let anyone touch me!"

I am young, but Alice is not much older than I am. She looks about twenty one summers. "I spoke the same way when I was your age. My mother said to me: 'Alice you must be careful. The guards are looking at you in ways not of a gentleman.' I told her that everything would be alright, until I was alone in the hallway with one of them. His name was Paul."

I gasp a little. "Lahote?"

Alice nods her head. "Yes, that's the one. He took me against my will but there was nothing I could really do about it. He was so much stronger than I was, and struggling only earned me pain."

I suddenly begin to feel sorry for her as her story goes on. "Oh Alice, I'm sorry…what makes the guards think they can take maidens?"

"They're shapeshifters," Alice said. "They're the most respected men in all of Canavar. Only a special few can shift and protect us all from immortals. Of course the king would let them have their way with any maiden in return for their hard work."

"It's unfair," I say to her. "Can't anything be done?"

"No," Alice replies sternly. "I've tried, believe me I have. The only thing I can do for you is to tell you to watch your back. Try not to be alone with the guards. I know that might be hard since you're personal caretaker to Princess Emiline, but take notice of their actions while around you."

I nod my head. "I promise I will," I tell her. "I'll stand up for myself."

She turns to look at me and smiles slightly. "I know that I don't know you very well, but I feel very strongly that I should be the one to look out for you when there's nobody else. You're like a sister to me and I don't want for you what happened to me."

I smile at her. "It's greatly appreciated," I reply.

There comes a knock at the door. Alice pops up off of the bed to open it. Ella stands at the doorway with her hair ragged looking. "Emiline requests Isabella."

"The time!" Alice squeals. "Oh gods. Go, Isabella. You mustn't keep her long."

I roll off of the bed and race out of the door into the cold hallways, my brown dress, flying around me. Emiline's room isn't far away at all, but I'm still afraid since I'd left her room when I wasn't instructed to.

I rush into her room, my heart pounding so loud that I'm afraid that she'll be able to hear it. Emiline turns around, her hair still in the long braid from before. She gives me a reassuring smile and I begin to calm down a little. The scars on her face stretch at the corners as she turns towards me, the smile still plastered onto her face. "I was beginning to wonder where you were," she says. "Where did you run off to?"

My eyes are still wide, like I am a deer before a hunter. "Ella told me that Alice wished to speak to me, so I just left for a few minutes. Oh, I planned to come back within the minute, but I…I lost track of time—"

"Hush Bella," Emiline says. "I am not angry with you."

I look at her, my chest still heaving. I bow my head a little in thanks. I close the door behind me, making the red room darker. It must be a little after seven o' clock. I must have missed dinner since Emiline was away, and no one needed me.

"Come, help me undress." Emiline says. "I must bathe."

0o0o0o0o

I lift the sponge out of the water and gently touch it to her back. She leans forward so I can get the whole area clean. I'd never bathed anyone but Elise and Maud, let alone a princess.

"May I ask how your day was?" I whisper tentatively. I don't want to be reprimanded for asking questions, but I am nevertheless curious.

"Hmm," Emiline says. "It was a lovely day. You see, our cousins came to town and invited the ladies of the house to a picnic. The youngest cousin, though, stayed with my brother and the guards here. One day he will be a shapeshifter."

I place the sponge back in the water, the water licking at the sides of the wooden tub. "How might one know if he or she is destined to become a shapeshifter?"

"Bloodlines," Emiline replies, looking at me through her peripherals. "There was an ancient family, from which all shapeshifters are descended."

As she shifts in the tub to face me, the water sloshes onto the ground. Her thick black hair flows down her body, covering her breasts and her stomach. "I believe I am in love with one," she whispers, biting her lip shyly. "He is a wonderful man."

She gives me her arm to wash. I use the bar of soap to lather with the sponge. "Do I know who this man is, my lady?"

"Yes," she nods her head. "I believe so."

I smile slightly as she blushes bright red in mere thought of this man. "Tell me of him," I say to her. "Tell me how he treats you."

"He treats me like a goddess. He thinks me the most beautiful woman in the world. He says that I am the epitome of everything he's ever wanted, and that he cannot wait to ask my father for my hand in marriage." Emiline says. "You will not know true happiness until a man speaks those same words to you."

I give her a bucket of hot water so she's able to wash her hair. She stands and pours it upon herself, water splattering everywhere. I wince, because I know that I will be the one to clean it up. She drops the bucket, and rubs her hands over her face. Her nudity is of little concern before me. I turn my head to give her meager privacy.

She finally sits back down after a minute of admiring her body in the mirror behind me. "His name is Samuel."

I nod my head slightly. "I thought so."

She leans her head back against the lip of the tub and tilts her chin to the ceiling. "Have any men caught your eye, Bella?"

"No," I say. It's a somewhat lie, since No Promises still lingers in my mind, refusing to leave. "Not yet."

"You will find someone of interest soon," Emiline assures me. "Canavar is known for her beautiful men."

0o0o0o0o

Finally stripping from the tight brown dress I'd worn all day, I throw it to the ground and grab my nightdress. After Emiline had told me all about the beautiful men of Canavar and courting customs and everything else she was interested in for two hours, I suspect it is somewhere around nine o' clock.

I can't help but feel liberated once I am out of those tight clothes and relieved of my duties for the night. The day was long, and not particularly great. I wind my hair up into a braid and fan myself slightly. The room was hot due to the touch of summer that the night gave. I go to the windows and push them open, letting the cool breeze float through.

The night smells like dewdrops and burning wood. I splay my palm open against the windowsill and feel the cool marble there. The moon is shining up above and the stars are twinkling as brightly as always.

I decide that I must bid Emiline a good night, since it was in fact, a good night. She'd been very kind to me today, as had she been since the day I'd arrived. Besides Alice and Angelina, I considered Emiline one of my only friends. I suppose I was pleased that she'd spoken up before her father, the king, and demanded me her personal slave.

Going to the door, I unhinge the lock and step outside. The smell of smoke and mint hits my nostrils as he passes by me. He knocks me aside accidentally and turns to see what damage he's done. I'm pressed up against the wall, a little flabbergasted.

His face instantly turns into a devilish smirk, one I'm not quite happy to see. "I must excuse myself," he drawls in his deep baritone bass. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

No Promises turns around and faces me fully. I take in a deep breath and hold it within my lungs. "It's quite alright," I say. I remember Alice's speech from the morning about the guards and her unfortunate experience with one of them. I hurriedly retreat back into my room and slam the door.

But he's faster than I am, and his big foot gets wedged in the space between the door and the frame. He pushes it open, placing his other hand on the knob. "Not so fast," he says. Those dark eyes roam over my body, my scantily dressed body. I put my hands up to cover myself through the sheer slip of fabric. "In a hurry?"

I shake my head. "Get out."

He cocks his head, his black hair falling into his eyes. "Why? Are you afraid?"

I am. I'm very afraid, but I don't want to let him see that. "No," I say. "Not afraid. Tired." I point to my bed and he looks and smirks. I know that he's thinking of having his way with me in that bed.

He looks back at me. I swallow and stand up a little straighter, my arms still wrapped over my chest. "What have you come for?"

"A name," he says. "A name is what I have come for. And I'm not leaving until I get it out of you."

I fight the strong urge to roll my eyes. It seems that we are still on the topic of names, and he still wants to know mine. I glance at the open door. He takes this meager glance as means of escape and shuts the door and locks it behind him. Now my heart pounds.

I am locked in a room, alone with a guard. _'Of course the king would let them have their way with any maiden in return for their hard work.'_ Alice's voice swirls around in my head. He stalks closer until we're mere inches away from each other. He reaches his hand up to push a lock of hair behind my ear, but I slap his hand away and swerve under his arm so that I'm positioned behind him.

"Alright," I say in a breathy voice. "I'll…I'll tell you."

He breaks into a slow, satisfied smile that spread over his lips like molasses and honey. Crossing those bulging muscular arms, he leans against the wall and tilts his chin up so that he's peering at me through his dark eyelashes. "Go on then."

I hate to let him win, but the words just tumble out of my mouth anyways. "Isabella," I say. "My name is Isabella."

He inhales, and then exhales. No Promises starts to walk towards the door. Was that it? Will he leave me alone now? He turns to face me one more time. "If you think I'm going to just _let you be_, you're strongly mistaken."

My little smile drops into a frowning sort of gape as he twists the doorknob and steps out into the dark hallway. He leaves with the door open. I sigh and go to close it, my heart pounding in my chest. Just as I place my hand on the doorknob, his face appears before mine. I freeze, unable to move.

His calloused fingertips strong the structure of my face and he darkly chuckles. "Isabella. Very beautiful name for a very beautiful maiden."

He steps away from me, backing further into the dark until the only thing I can see is the whiteness of his hauntingly handsome smile. I shut the door and press my back against it. My knees, unable to hold my weight, quiver and I slide down against the door weakly.

0o0o0o0o

Hope you guys liked it. I worked hard to get it in before Christmas Eve. Hope everyone's having a great holiday so far! Soon I'll have a new laptop to whip these babies up on. Please review, I'd love to know what you think. It's like you giving me Christmas presents (:

Courtney xx


	4. The Nameless Still

The Taming

**Author's Note**: Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. As a part of my Christmas gifts, I got a laptop. It works like a charm, the little beauty. Anyways, I think portrayals are very important for my characters because I don't always see them as the young naïve teenagers like in the movies. In my mind, a movie plays out with those same characters with same names but different faces. Just thought you all would like to know the two main ones in my mind.

_Bella_: Jessica Brown Findlay

_Jacob:_ Steven Strait

**Chapter Four: **_The Nameless Still_

I wait in the room with Emiline until she's finished drinking her morning glass of warm milk with cinnamon sticks. The morning is chilly; she sits in her red velvet chair by the little fire in the hearth with a blanket wrapped round her shoulders. "I wonder why it's so very cold this morning," she remarks, lifting her glass to her lips.

I sit in the other identical chair right next to her, lacking both blanket and warm milk. I, more than she, can feel the chilly bite of that morning. Shrugging my shoulders, I lean back into the cushioned seat. "Is it abnormal for a chilly morning in Canavar?" I question, looking over at her in wondering.

Emiline shakes her head. "No. I normally just don't feel it." It's a comical response to a sincere question. I struggle to hold in my laugh; at least she's honest. She looks at me with a hint of humor in her eyes. "You must think that I do not expose myself to the elements much."

"Well, I…"

She holds up her hand to silence me. My eyes widen, thinking that she's upset with me. "It is because I do not." The stretch of silence that follows is oddly uncomfortable. Then Emiline's hidden smile breaks into a large grin and her laughter floods the room like a rainstorm floods a creek.

I laugh too. It's the first time I've laughed in a while, and it feels good to laugh. It feels like happiness is invading each dusty corner of my body that had sat idly for too long. The scars on the right side of her face crinkle up with her merry amusement. She is an exotic beauty with her scars, and I can't help but think of what she would look like without them. Like a true goddess, I suppose.

Emiline lifts her eyes to the sundial sitting beside the window. She goes to it and works with it a little, trying to calculate the time with the way that the sun struck the dial. "It is about eight o' clock," she says to me, her voice still humorous and a smile still plastered on her face. "Breakfast should be starting soon."

She sheds her blanket from her shoulders and raises her arms toward the ceiling, stretching and yawning. She is already dressed in her normal, yet strikingly beautiful red attire. She gave me a new dress this morning to wear when I showed up wearing the same one from yesterday. It is still brown, but with a pretty green lace around the middle.

Emiline walks out of the door, her long red skirts dragging against the floor. I follow her, shutting the two great doors behind me. Into the busy dining hall we walk, and Emiline doesn't spare me a glance as she flocks over to Samuel and her lady friends.

I go to the kitchen with Alice and Angelina and hand out some plates with eggs and fried sausages and potatoes. I eat at the servant table with the others and we talk about our nights.

"Rebecca threw a tantrum because I did not fetch her the right type of wine. I swear to the gods that she told me to get her red, but she claimed she wanted white when I returned with it. She slapped it out of my hand and then I had to clean up the stain on her white carpet. I swear that I scrubbed for hours," Angelina grumbles, folding her arms.

Alice yawns and picks at her plate with her fork. "Rachel's been courting a man, so I haven't really seen her that much. A little free time is nice, so I won't complain."

"Who?" Angelina leans closer, her eyes widened with interest.

Alice shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. Rachel refuses to tell me anything, even though I can see clear as a summer's day that she comes home red in the face and wisps of hair flung out of her tightly coiled bun. Partook in a midnight rendezvous, I suppose."

Angelina giggles. "How scandalous," she says, her nose wrinkling up with both amusement and slight disgust. "I never took the princess for a girl who goes out to make passionate lovemaking under the stars."

"And in the dirt," another maid named Rosalie chimes in mischievously. "Scandalous love is dirty love at that. How I wonder who it is!"

I sit at the table eating my food silently with my back facing to the wall, opposite of where I sat last time. Now, from the corner, I can see the entire royal table with all of the noblemen and women and royals. And from where I am sitting, I have a clear view of him. He sits on the opposite side of his royal table, and now we are face to face across the whole entire dining room.

I watch as he bites into a potato, his lips enveloping the flesh of the soft vegetable. He looks up from where he's eating and makes accidental eye contact with me. Gasping, I lower my eyes quickly to my own plate before he can notice that I had been staring at him.

I hold my gaze with my sausage and potatoes for a few seconds before looking back up. I gasp rather loudly when I meet his fiery black eyes once more. I'm sure that he'd seen me now. He chews what was in his mouth slowly, narrowing his eyes at me. He looks smug; he knows that I couldn't tear my eyes away. My heartbeat speeds up a little as his intense gaze holds me there, preventing me from looking away.

Those lips curve into a beautiful smile that lingers on the verge of being sincere or pure evil. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and blood rushing to my cheeks. He stares back at me with such intensity that I know he's challenging me to look away first. I don't want to give into what he wants, so I just narrow my eyes and stare right back at him.

I can see his shoulders rise and fall as he chuckles softly. He then proceeds to lick his lips, his pink tongue sliding out and slipping across his full russet lips. He then puts a little sweet butter on top of his potato and with little flicks of his tongue, licks the butter away. I'm shuddering in my seat, my eyes widening at his vulgarity.

Finally, I look away, the intensity between us becoming too thick. Alice seems to notice my discomfort and frowns. "What's the matter, Isabella?" she asks me. I shake my head, brushing it off.

"Nothing," I reply. "I'm fine. It's just a little hot in here."

"Really?" Rosalie questions. "I think it's a bit chilly."

I grit my teeth together and stab at my sausage with my fork; she just needed to add in that she didn't think it was hot. The tension between No Promises and I is so thick that I could cut it with a knife. I sit there and eat my food. I can practically feel his eyes still lingering on me. Alice, Angelina, and Rosalie are all chattering about men and guards and castle gossip, completely ignoring me. I can't say that I am upset about being ignored; my face is much too bright and my heart pounds much too fast.

I look at my wine and grab the goblet, downing the rest of the drink in one big gulp. My mind seems to have two different opinions on the situation at the current moment—half of me loved how his eyes roamed over me and half of me hated it with a burning passion.

No Promises is a guard and there's no telling whether or not he wants to claim me as his own for one night and then never speak another word to me. Unsettling as it is, I brush the thought away. I go for my goblet of wine one more time, only to realize that it's been empty for a few minutes already. "Do you think it would be okay to refill my glass?" I whisper to Alice.

She nods, taking a bite out of her egg. "Yes. You should be fine. But if anyone asks for anything, you must serve them first."

_Of course, _I think to myself. _What's new there?_

Sighing, I push out of my seat and walk down from the little platform that our table was elevated upon. I walk, with my head held high, towards the small mobile table that held the many wine pitchers and sparkling wine glasses. The young servant boy standing by the wine table rushes over to pour me the drink.

I hold up my hand and shake my head. "No," I say softly, a little smile forming at my lips. "You need not serve me. I am just a mere maiden, you see."

The boy backs away slightly, chewing on his lip. I proceed to take the pitcher and pour myself the drink. I nod at him before turning on my heel and lifting the glass to my lips. I look at the royal table. I see Emiline chattering away with Samuel at the corner of the table, and the guards laughing with their mouths full.

The only one that is not laughing is of course No Promises. He chews his food, watching my every single move as I make my way closer towards him before preparing to make the walk back to my lowly table. He reaches out behind him, his fingers skirting across my hip. It was made to look accidental but I know that he knows exactly what it was meant to be.

"Pardon," I say softly, loud enough for only his ears to hear. He lifts his glass to his lips, nodding slowly as he tilted the glass back. He does not take his eyes from mine until I forcefully tear my eyes back to where I am destined to go.

I inhale slowly before exhaling just as slowly. I reach my table once more, pulling out the rich cherry wood chair and sitting down upon it. Alice smiles at me, trying to reassure me that the day would be smoother. She does not know the whole story, but she can read little bits of it, like getting mere glimpses of a book shrouded half in moonlight and half in darkness.

I silently finish my plate, my face burning with the blush that rises up my cheeks and to the tips of my ears. Alice nudges me in the side, causing me to look up after staring at my plate for a few moments. "Why does he look at you so?" she whispers, her eyes staring out at the royal table.

I lift my wine glass to my lips, not bothering to look where she looks. "Whom do you speak of?"

Alice looks at me and rolls her eyes. "Do not be daft."

I say nothing, leaning back in my chair.

The little woman fidgets in her chair and flaps her arms a bit. "Oh, do not tell me that you are this ignorant. I know that you know of whom I speak and I will tell you of this; he is the most dangerous of them all. Beautiful, yes. But beauty is quite deceiving."

I look her in the eyes and touch her chilled hand softly. "I will have nothing to do with that man. I promise you, Alice. You need not worry about me."

"Good." Alice whispers, a little smile playing on her lips. She's still upset by the fact that he was staring at me, and it's evident in the way her voice trembles slightly. "I would not stand to see you hurt by him."

My heart is slightly touched by her words, for no one has ever gave a single care about my wellbeing in my entire existence. I turn my focus back upon my table.

Rosalie leans forwards a bit. "So…is everyone ready for the grand ball to be held tomorrow?"

I furrow my brows. "Grand ball? Tomorrow?"

"Yes, yes," Angelina says, swallowing her sausage piece. "Every year in the season of summer, the grand ball is held in Canavar. It is a festival of light inside and out that celebrates the gods that bring the sun up each morning."

"How interesting," I muse softly. "I suppose the ball will be the major event of tonight. Have they started preparing for it?"

Alice giggles. "They started preparing for this ball last spring," she says in a jesting sort of way. "It is the main event of the whole entire year. You were just lucky enough to arrive just in time for the festivities."

I smile slightly, nodding my head. "I've never been to a ball. Or a light festival."

Rosalie smiles almost sympathetically towards me. "Oh, you poor thing. You don't attend at these balls, you _serve_ at them."

Alice smacks her lightly on the arm. "Oh, hush. She serves Emiline—the princess will allow her to attend. Rebecca even allows Angelina to go."

I stare at them both in wonder.

"Just didn't want to get her hopes—"

"Shh, she's fine."

As the royals begin to wrap up their meals, they begin to leave the dining hall. I look to Emiline, only to realize that she's already walking out, her arm wrapped around Samuel's gigantic bicep. She's so short that she only comes up to about his elbow. She doesn't even spare me a glance as Samuel sweeps her off someplace elsewhere.

I stand there awkwardly as Angelina finds Rebecca and Alice finds Rachel. Rosalie skips off back to the kitchen to help put some of the plates away. I brush off my skirts and begin walking back to the room that I was given. I have nothing else to do, and I'd rather not get lost in the castle trying to find something to do.

I can see him standing there in the corner of the room, staring me down. Today he's left his hair down and the thick black hair frames his face. He sighs, pushing it out of his eyes. I drift right past him with my chin held up into the air, my thick brown curls flowing down my back. He follows me.

"Isabella," his husky bass grinds out, echoing in the cold and quiet hallway. I don't turn around. I sigh and speed up my walking pace even though I know well that I can't outrun him. He repeats my name, reaching his hand out to grasp my arm.

I'm forced against the wall, but he doesn't pin me there with his body. "Why do you run?" he questions. When I say nothing, he chuckles darkly and shakes his head. "You should know you can't outrun me even if you tried."

His eyes flash yellow briefly before turning back to the dark brown that they normally are. He almost looks apologetic for a moment, but he shakes his head, like he's pushing away some sort of evil alter ego. "Why do you follow me?" I ask him, making sure not to sound scared even though my body trembles.

He pushes away from me slightly, running his hand through his hair again. "Because you interest me."

"Why?" I ask him.

"I don't know," comes his reply.

He looks down at me, the muscles in his cheeks bulging as he tenses his jaw. His tongue slides across his full lips as he rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, the veins in his arms swollen with the adrenaline and thick, hot blood that runs through them. The dark eyelashes that frame the dark eyes, and the deep cleft in his chin. His gigantic chest with equally gigantic arms and torso. All things that make him eerily beautiful, and dangerous.

He's so dangerous and yet I do not even know his name. Perhaps I do not wish to know his name because I am afraid of what I will hear. So instead I nod my head, tearing my eyes away from him. "I must retire to my rooms," I whisper, beginning to walk away from him.

"Is the idea of just speaking with me, so sickening to you?" he asks me, his voice barely even audible.

This stops me in my tracks. He almost sounds hurt by my dismissal and this greatly puzzles me. I don't know how to respond to this so I just stand there in awe, blinking slowly. He stands there, staring at me with those menacing dark eyes through the curtain of his hair.

"No," I whisper. "Princess Emiline will only start to worry and I pray that I do not meet her wrath for being late."

His eyes do not brighten by the hint of humor I try to weakly lace into my tone. He shifts from one leg to the other and stares up at the sunlight casting shadows off of the walls. "I see." That's all that he says.

He lets me go then, and I walk slowly down the hallway with my head bowed down. My long skirt sweeps against the dusty, cold floors. I don't even know his name. I don't even know his name. I don't even know his name.

_So don't feel bad. He's only trying to brainwash you into his bed._

0o0o0o0o

"Tell me you like it, Bella." Emiline says, holding up her new gown. It is possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The skirt itself is a beauty, large and ruffled and red color bleeding into orange. There is black lace on the very bottom of it, as well as beautiful shimmering patterns of crystal jewels on the bodice and various parts of the skirt.

"It is beautiful," I whisper. Emiline turns round in the dress, admiring its beauty. She runs her hands down the slimming bodice and fluffs her skirts a little.

She points to a beautiful mask lying on her chair. "Do hand me that," she murmurs. I reach behind me and hand her the animal mask. She puts it up to her face and smiles. "I am a tiger."

I smile as she proceeds to growl like the exotic beast from the southern wild. I look up at her in her dress and imagine myself in one as beautiful as the one she's wearing. "Princess…" I whisper.

She looks down at me and smiles. "Yes?"

"Might I be able to attend the ball?" I ask her, chewing my lip slightly.

Emiline nods her head. "Of course you may! This grand masquerade ball shall be your first Canavarian summer ball, then."

I smile back, elated that she's granted me permission to attend the ball. "What do I wear to these grand masquerade balls, then? Would you help me?"

"Hmm," Emiline muses. "I did not think of that." Then she goes over to her closet and looks through her dresses. She clutches one in particular close to her chest before turning around and showing it to me. My eyes instantly widen.

It is beautiful and of course, red. It has a slimming bodice with small red sleeves and a huge, ruffled skirt that almost looks like dark red feathers. Then she holds up the mask that went along with it. "It was made as my alternative if I did not like the tiger costume that the servants made. I have not worn it yet…if you would do the honors, I would be greatly pleased."

"Oh no, princess. You need not give me such a beautiful dress. I am not worthy of wearing it." When I'd originally asked what to wear, I'd planned on her offering me one that was of little wealth and little beauty, but still more beautiful than the maidservants' dresses that I was instructed to wear every day.

"No," Emiline says. "My personal handmaiden represents me. I am a woman of beauty, am I not? I would have only the best for you, for if I were in your position, I'd wish for someone to be as kind as I am being to you at this very moment."

She hands me the dress and I take it into my hands. I look up at her in great thanks. I can't believe that she's doing this for me. "I do not know how to thank you," I whisper.

She pats her hair and smiles slightly. "I am sure you can find a way to pay me back," she says jokingly. "But anyways, take this dress back to your room and find some pretty red feathers to go along with your costume. I do believe it is a cardinal bird."

I nod my head and make my way towards Emiline's door with the dress and mask wrapped up in my arms.

0o0o0o0o

Short chapter, but I felt like it needed to be chopped off here. Up next is the masquerade ball. I've already got some of that written up so it really shouldn't be long. Are you all excited for some time with our favorite couple at a mysterious masquerade ball and light festival? Please **review**. They really do provide the crucial encouragement a writer needs to be motivated for the story. Thanks! More soon. (:

Courtney xx


	5. The Grand Masquerade

The Taming

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews that I got. It really means a lot to me when people give me such lovely feedback to read. Well, here's what we've all been waiting for! The ball will be split into two chapters, this chapter being the first one. I've always loved grand, elaborate things like balls. And in most old, romance movies I've seen, the love always starts there. Anyways, enjoy!

**Chapter Five**: _The Grand Masquerade_

The sun is sinking slowly into the sky. It's the day of the Grand Masquerade summer ball, one that Canavar is known for. Emiline has been preparing all day for this ball, and so has the rest of the castle. In the morning hours, after another tense breakfast with No Promises, she dragged me all around to oversee some of the preparations.

In the kitchens, we tasted the little cakes and appetizers being prepared that night. There were chocolate with vanilla icing, and vanilla with chocolate icing and some vanilla cakes with coconut cream in the middle. Red velvet, and double fudge. Pies that ranged from pumpkin to apple, blueberry, and blackberry, and even key lime. Emiline was sure to taste each and every cake, making sure it was to her satisfaction.

And as for appetizers, we tasted shrimp and little crackers with delicate, creamy cheeses. Emiline tasted the wines, but not too much because she didn't want to do herself in before the festivities even started.

Then she took me outside and walked around the little villages surrounding the castle. They were stringing up sparkling gold tinsel and hanging lanterns on their front porch steps, and little children were holding mason jars in their hands, getting ready for the sun to set so that they could catch as many fireflies as humanly possible.

Emiline explained to me the lighting of candles and paper lanterns and setting floating lanterns up into the sky, symbolically giving light to the night and thanking the gods that brought the sun up every day.

We then proceeded to listen to some violin and piano music that will play nonstop dances throughout the night. Emiline even offers to teach me some of the traditional Canavarian dances in the large ballroom. She taught me the easy ones first, which I picked up on instantly. Then she taught me her personal favorite, and hardest dance, "The Predator and the Prey." That one took me some more time to learn, but I got down the complicated hand and foot motions within the first fifteen minutes.

We had stumbled out, laughing, our hair a mess. I'd never had a true friend before, but as the day toiled on with the festivities, I realized that Emiline was nice company and I was really beginning to like being her personal servant. She was a lovely new friend, even though she greatly outweighed me in rank.

Then, I could not wait until the night to come. And even now, with an hour to spare before the masquerade finally began, I cannot wait. We are in her chambers, and she sits in front of her desk with the beautiful oval shaped mirror propped up against the back wall. She uses her wooden brush to comb out the knots in her long black hair.

Tonight, she wishes for me to braid her hair again. She requests the type of braid that ran across the whole entire head, and not the one that started at the nape of the neck. Emiline had said that after I helped her get ready, that she would help me to get ready.

Once she is done brushing her hair, she sets the wooden brush down onto the vanity desk and smiles into the mirror. "I am ready." I separate her incredibly thick, black hair into three pieces and begin to weave it into a braid.

It takes me about ten minutes to get halfway through her hair, and from there it's all smooth sailing. I finish her hair and tie the end with a little strip of leather that blends perfectly into her hair. I take the tiny topaz jewels that she collected and place them into her hair, making her black strands glisten with orange and gold.

She stands from where she sits and twirls around, extremely pleased with what I've done. "Oh, I love it!" she gushes. She rushes to her closet and pulls out the gigantic, beautiful masquerade dress. She is in her underclothes, the white blouse and pantaloons. I pick up the corset off of her bed and help her to put it on.

"I want it to the very last lace," she says, sucking in her stomach. She braces herself by holding onto the end posts of her bed. "Go!" I pull the strings as hard as I can and the corset constricts tightly. She holds her breath while I hurriedly tie the strings on the back to secure the waist size.

"Can you breathe much at all?" I ask with a hint of humor in my tone.

She shakes her head. Out comes a struggled, "No."

I grimace. "Perhaps I should untighten it just a tad…"

"No!" Emiline says, batting my hand away when it reaches for the strings. "I need this setting to be able to fit into my dress. She then proceeds to take a few deep breaths. "See? I will be just fine."

She is red in the face and but she tries to make it seem like she's just dandy. I laugh as I hold up her dress. She slips into it with ease thanks to her corset. Emiline is not portly by any means, and the corset made her hips look they were equal to the width of an inch.

She spins around in front of her mirror, admiring the beautiful scarlet and orange ball gown. She slips on her red shoes and sits down at her vanity to apply some powder to her face and some lip shimmer made from red raspberries. She then goes to her crown box and hands the lid to me while she placed the crystal headdress atop her beautiful head of hair shimmering with topazes.

Emiline holds up her tiger mask and growls at me again. I laugh and lay back against the seat. She looks beautiful in her dress, much more beautiful than any maiden in this castle. She sees me sitting down and she places her hands on her tiny hips. "What are you doing?" she asks.

I sit up a little, thinking that I've done something wrong. "Is there still something you need to do, princess?" I ask her.

She nods her head matter-of-factly. I gulp slightly, thinking that I've made her angry. "You," she replies. "There's only so much time left until the ball, silly. You don't want to go in those rags when I've picked a pretty cardinal bird costume for you!"

I gasp. I had gotten so caught up in Emiline, and Emiline's happiness with the way she looked, that I'd essentially forgotten about myself. She makes her way over to me and points at my outfit. She widens her eyes.

I look down at myself and then back up at her. Emiline sighs. "Strip!" she says. The lightbulb in my head finally clicks and I unlace the back of my dress and let it fall to the ground. I'm left in my small clothes in front of her. She looks me up and down, biting her fingernail.

She shuffles over to her wardrobe with limited movement due to the width of her skirts and rummages around in there until she finds what she was looking for. She tosses me the blue corset and I catch it in my hands. Maud and Elise owned a few, but Aunt Constance claimed that I was never allowed because I was unworthy and no one would even see it because I never went out.

Emiline helps me into the corset and laces it up pretty tight, but not as tight as hers is. I can barely breathe, but as I look at how small Emiline's waist is, I realize that it could be much worse. Then she takes the red dress out from the corner that I'd kept it in and Emiline, without a word in warning, shoves it over my head.

I fit into the beautiful red ball gown with ease. I'm surprised with the feel of the material against my skin and the way it slims down my waist and flows over my hips. The bodice is tight and the corset shoves my breasts up and makes them incredibly 'up for grabs.' The red sleeves do nothing to hide the exposed skin on my shoulders; they just slide down towards the middle of my bicep, but Emiline says that it's supposed to be like that.

She forces me to sit down and gathers all of my chestnut curls in her hands and begins to separate and part my hair. I sit there until she's done fussing with my curls. She adds two red feathers into the braid that she twisted my bangs back in and then three more on top to add the effect of the bird feathers.

She brings over the little tin of raspberry juice. "Purse your lips like this," she says, and models how she wants to me to push my lips together. I do what she says and she spreads the red substance all over my lips. I'm tempted to lick it off, but when I try to lick a drop away from the corner of the mouth, Emiline scolds me and wipes it away with her handkerchief.

When I'm finally shown the mirror after a few more moments of primping and preening, my heart nearly stops. I don't even recognize myself through all of the powder and the fine dress material and red berry lip stain. Emiline comes up behind me and places a beautiful red necklace over my collarbones and fastens the back of it. My eyes threaten to pop out of my head.

"There," she whispers. "Now you're all set to go." Her tender smile makes me feel so happy inside. I stand and admire myself in the mirror. Tears bubble at the corners of my eyes. I've never felt so beautiful in all my life.

Emiline can see this and she rushes over to me, wiping them away quickly with her handkerchief. "Do not cry," she instructs quietly. Then she smiles tenderly. "You'll make the powder run."

Then we laugh, and pick up our masks off of her vanity desk. "Are you ready for your first Canavarian light festival, and grand masquerade?" Emiline asks me.

I nod my head. "Yes."

0o0o0o0o

I can hear the music from all the way down the hall, and it frankly excites me knowing that I'm only a few steps away from the time of my life, and my very first masquerade ball. Emiline is in front of me, tugging me along excitedly. "Oh, can you hear it? They're playing the waltz, the Butterfly Waltz!"

I'm laughing, the feathers in my hair nearly falling out as she pulls on my arm harder. "Are we late then, Emiline? Since the music is playing?"

"No, no, not late," the princess replies. "The fun's just only begun." She claps her hands together and we enter the ballroom. She rushes in and immediately and begins to socialize, but I'm stuck still in my place.

The whole entire ballroom in all its magnificent glory renders me speechless. If I thought it was painstakingly beautiful before, it was clearly because I'd never seen it in all its splendor.

The chandeliers were adorned with what it looked like, thousands of tiny twinkling stars. It illuminates the ballroom in such a way that it almost takes my breath away. Emiline has left my side in a whirlwind of excitement, leaving me completely alone in the ballroom. I don't really mind; I'm used to being alone.

Music of multiple instruments blare throughout the grand room, playing the dance that Emiline had further specified as "The Butterfly Waltz." I'm ultimately lost in the grandeur of everything. I turn around in circles with the chin tipped towards the ceiling because of the lights and sparkling décor everywhere.

Someone rams into my side, instantly knocking me back into reality. "Pardon," I whisper as the culprit scatters on by with her hand placed on her giant feather headdress. She scowls at me before being enveloped into the crowds.

Now I'm alone. I don't know a soul in this ballroom except Emiline, and Emiline's already gone, swallowed whole by the sea of people that entered the ballroom. As I walk through the crowds, I can see all of the different costumes that people are sporting. There's a man with a brown suit and a furry mask; he is a bear. And beside him is a woman dressed in a blue and purple ball gown with a golden, feathery bird mask; she is a peacock.

I see swans, cats, horses, foxes, leopards, and even elephants. A man passes by me with two giant, curled and sharp woven horns sitting atop his head like a crown. I shrink back a little—his mask is menacing and he is as tall as a sycamore tree.

In the middle of the ballroom, the Butterfly Waltz is coming to an end. Couples step in line one last time, repeat their same movements one more time, and then bow when the fiddles and cellos cease to play.

Everyone claps and the previous dancers exit the dance floor laughing and smiling. Just after the Butterfly Waltz has ended, another dance starts up, and a different set of couples flood out to dance. I smile, wondering what it would be like to dance with a man out there.

Across the ballroom, I can see the king sitting in his throne, elevated in a balcony with a long table of food set across from him. I can see two girls standing next to him, one as a rabbit and the other as an owl. I can also see the brilliant scarlet and orange dress from afar; Emiline's there too, kissing her father on the cheek before exiting through the little door behind him to rejoin the festivities.

As I search with my eyes some more, I catch sight of a large man dressed in a brown wolf costume. I squint my eyes at him, trying to see if he's looking right back at me. Gasping, I reel back in shock and slight discomfort. He appears to be staring right at me.

The more I study him, the more I take in. His suit has intricate designs outlined in gold and copper, and his wolf mask is framed with the gold. He looks strong, powerful, and menacing.

I am the one to look away first. I turn my back and push through the crowds. I can see the food table, and some of the maidservants handing out appetizers on little golden platters. I recognize one to be Rosalie. I decide to go over and say hello.

The blonde woman looks at me and then curtseys. "How do you do madam?" she asks in a very polite and professional voice. "Would you like to try some aged cheese on salted bread chips?"

At first I'm confused by her politeness towards me, but then I realize what I'm wearing. Emiline's dress makes me look like high class nobility or even royalty when in reality I'm just the maid.

She doesn't recognize me. The façade that she's put on like a mask completely gives her away. I take one of the appetizers and curtsey, not bothering to tell her who I really was. She watches me eat it before walking away, offering appetizers to other people.

Before Rosalie, I'd not known that Emiline dressed me in clothes that would make me look so unlike myself to the point where I'd be unnoticeable to friends. One of the male servants passes by and hands me a glass of wine. He nods at me, encouraging me to take it.

A little taken aback, I accept the wine glass into my shaky hand. "Oh. Alright," I whisper. "Thank you very much."

The servant nods and moves along through the crowds. First some cheese on a cracker, and now some wine. I'm not that big on drinking wine, but when I see all of the royals and nobles drinking from the same shiny clear glasses, I opt not to throw it out. Perhaps I'd play along for the night.

There's an odd feeling in my stomach, like someone's watching me very closely. As I look around me, no one seems to be paying any attention to the girl in the beautiful red dress. I get the occasional look from the noblewomen, but they're only admiring the material adorning my body. They're not admiring me.

The uneasy feeling's still there, but I try to push it away as I hear a familiar voice calling my name. "Isabella?" a small voice whispered behind me. I turn around to face Angelina, dressed in her serving clothes. She has a white bandana draped over her hair. I turn to look at me.

I smile at her. "Angelina," I reply. I vaguely remember her saying that she was going to attend the masquerade ball. "Why—"

She holds up her hand to silence me. "Apparently the princess was still upset about the wine situation. There's a faint pink spot in place of the wine on her carpets and I don't know how many times I've scrubbed at it. It just won't come up. She made me wear these rags and serve instead."

I don't quite know how to respond to Angelina's obvious upset about her current predicament. I chew my lip and look down at my feet. "I'm sorry," I whisper. I'm unsure if I should hold a conversation with her or just walk away to save her the embarrassment.

"Sorry?" Instead she laughs and shakes her head. "No, don't be sorry. You look lovely. I barely even recognized you and I took quite the risk calling your name. Oh boy! If it turned out not to be you, I'd get reprimanded for even opening my mouth to talk of something that didn't have to do with work."

I see a woman next to me step forward and reach out for the platter of shrimp in Angelina's hands. She doesn't not say "pardon me" or "excuse me"; she only reaches. I give her somewhat a dirty look, for manners do not become her.

I bid Angelina a farewell with the silent nod of my head. I lift my glass as I swerve past a portly man dressed as an elephant. As I make my way through the crowds, that same uneasy feeling still sticks in my chest. Someone's still following me.

I make a swerve to the right and exit the crowded, sweaty ballroom to go outside for some fresh air. The blare of the loud music fades out as I step into the darkness of the night. There's still some music out here, but it's softer and gentler to the ears in comparison to the fast paced waltzes and line dances in the ballroom.

The gardens of the Canavarian palace are huge and beautiful. People are scattered, laughing and drinking and socializing with their peers. There are gazebos in certain points of the gardens, and a grand fountain in the very middle of the sprouting flowers.

I step into one of the empty gazebos. It's beautifully illuminated by the little lights and lanterns. A littler fountain is located maybe a yard away from it, the trickling of water able to be heard over the soft tune of the violin music. This gazebo is strategically hidden behind a large, sculpted bush. But I'm not completely hidden from eyesight.

I sigh and set my wine glass on the railing of the gazebo. A cool, nighttime breeze sweeps through the gardens and rakes across my face. When I hear footsteps behind me, I whip around to face him.

A man stands there in his brown wolf costume, hands stuffed into his pockets. No mask would be able to conceal his identity. I'd know him anywhere.

"You follow me," I say breathlessly, my heart beating a little faster. He steps forward, his leather shoes clunking hard against the wood flooring of the gazebo. His black hair is tied back in his signature bun with the wisps of hair falling around his face.

He stops right in front of me. "I thought you were trying to escape," he replies monotonously.

I stand there and stare at him, my chest heaving with each heavy breath I breathe. "I came out here to relieve myself of the extreme heat of the ballroom for a little." I reply. "Not to escape."

He has his wine glass in his hand; he lifts it to take a sip from it. "You are in Emiline's dress." He nods at the red material wrapped around my body in observation. My brows furrow in confusion: how would he know that I am wearing Emiline's dress?

"How do you know that this dress is not mine?" I question him, leaning forward with my eyes narrowed. I doubt he can see my obvious annoyance through my cardinal bird mask.

"Because you are a maid," he laughs humorlessly. "You'd never own anything as expensive and fine as this even if you were to save up your whole lifetime."

I'm taken aback by his rudeness towards me. I growl at him. "What do you want? Have you only come to insult me?"

He almost looks puzzled by my reaction. "Is what I said untrue?"

Now I'm positively sure that my face has turned a darker shade of red than that of my dress. I look down at the floor, sucking my lip into my mouth. He speaks the truth, but sometimes the truth is better remained unspoken. I start to walk out of the gazebo when his hand snaps out and places a death grip on my wrist. "Let me go," I hiss at him. "You've said enough truth for one night."

"Wait," he whispers. When I turn around I can see him struggling with his words. It almost seems as if he's riding on a thin line over a cliff, like he's fighting some deep internal conflict. "I…I am sorry if I offended you."

His words make my anger bubble down just a little bit. I exhale slowly, my face relaxing from the deep scowl that I'd previously been making. "You did."

He jerks his hand a little, pulling me closer by my wrist a little by little. "Sometimes I don't know how to talk to a lady," he whispers. Then he adds with a little quirk of his lips, "…the way they want to be talked to, at least."

He says the last part so softly that I can barely even hear it but I do anyways. I narrow my eyes again but I let him pull me back into the middle of the gazebo. I want to slap him away. I want to push him hard on the chest and tell him that he's a sick and horrible person for his mindset on women but instead I stand there idle and let him move me with him like I'm a doll.

"Isabella," his voice comes quiet and gentle through my ears. For some reason I like it. I like when he says my name, each syllable on his tongue, each formation of his lips. "You're very beautiful."

My face burns with the compliment. I know what Alice has said and it's still very real to me in my head, but I can't help but to enjoy his eyes on me and the kind compliment. "It is the night that makes me beautiful." I chuckle to myself. It's the laugh with no humor because it's all too true. If I hadn't been given this dress by Emiline, I'd be wearing the same attire as Angelina with a rag over my hair.

He pushes up his mask and it reveals his eyes. "The night has absolutely nothing to do with beauty," he replies. Those deep, brown eyes stare right into mine. I gulp slightly, turning my head away from him to avoid blushing again. But it happens anyways.

I step away from him and go to the edge of the gazebo, staring up into the darkening sky. The sun can barely even be seen as the last of it disappears below the horizon. The sky is a milky blue that fades to dusty black in the blink of an eye.

I contemplate leaving him there to go back to the ballroom, but I know that he'll follow me anyways. After all, he'd been following me for most of the night. I reach over for my wine glass and take a sip of the tangy liquid. I'm not an avid wine drinker, but this moment just calls for one.

"You still don't trust me, do you?" I ask him softly.

His response comes quietly, his voice deep and husky. "No more than you trust me."

The way in which he responded was witty, and I can't help what I'm about to do. And no matter how much I try to refrain from it, I end up laughing because it's true and rather funny.

Hearing my laugh makes him smile and chuckle a little. The way his face looks when the corners of his lips drag upwards and his eyes crinkle at the edges makes this feeling race through me like a beam of lightning.

"I'm going back to the ballroom," I tell him, my fingers running over the golden beak of my cardinal bird mask. I step off the gazebo and I hear his leather shoes stomping after me.

"Then I'm going with you," he says.

I stop in my tracks. "Why?" I ask him, staring straight into his eyes. He stares right back at me with intensity.

"Does there have to be a reason?" he asks me right back, cocking his head. His hair blows softly in the breeze as he stands there as still as a statue.

I look at him with confusion in my eyes. Everyone's got a reason, a motive. He's playing mind tricks with me, sick twisted games that tug on my heartstrings and stir up wonder in my brain. Smirk ing, he leads the way back into the castle.

0o0o0o0o

To be continued! Definitely going to be continued lol. I hope that you all enjoyed the first part of our grand masquerade ball and some interaction between J and B. Please **review** and tell me what you thought! Hope you all enjoy the rest of your winter break before dreadful work and school start up again.

Courtney xx


	6. Fading Stars

The Taming

**Author's Note: **Yeah, needless to say that this chapter's extreme lateness was at the fault of midterms for school and districts for cheerleading. Yay! No sleep and sore everywhere!

Anyways, I'd recently listened to more opera music trying to really get into the spirit of this masquerade and I found the beautiful "Nessun Dorma." I don't think I've ever heard a more beautiful song. Here are some of the aspiring lyrics that I believe describe one of our favorite main characters, Mr. Jacob Black. (I hope these are the correct translations, but I found so many different ones. This is the one I got from Pavarotti.)

_But my secret lies hidden within me. No one shall know my name. No, no! On your mouth I will tell it…when the light shines and breaks the silence that makes you mine. _

**Chapter Six**: _Fading Stars_

"Join me," he says to me as soon as we walk through the doors of the castle. The orchestra is getting ready to begin a new song. I look at him like he's just grown another head out of his right shoulder.

"Join you?" I repeat back to him, puzzled.

"Yes," he replies, taking my hand in his own and pulling me towards the dancefloor. The action startles me and I rip my hand out of his. He looks even more puzzled than I am when I back away from him.

I shake my head. "I do not wish to dance," I say. He walks towards me a little, causing me to move back. "No, don't touch me."

He gives me a look. His face reddens at first, but then his frown sinks into a sly smirk. "Well…look where you are now."

I furrow my eyebrows, glancing around at my surroundings. He's already dragged me into the middle of the ballroom floor. I look back up at him with my eyes widened and my mouth open. He gives me a hopelessly attractive lopsided grin and slides his wolf mask down over his eyes and nose.

As the music starts up, I begin to recognize the tune from earlier. This was the exact same dance that Emiline had taught me. It was her favorite dance, and it was also the hardest one. The Predator and the Prey. The women stood in their own line mirroring the line of men in front of them.

I'm terrified to perform this dance with him. I don't know all of the steps perfectly and just the thought of our closeness in this dance is just mentally unsettling. My face is emotionless as I move forwards towards No Promises, touching our hands together before letting go and standing still as he circles around me like a predator would its prey, his big brown eyes focused on me.

As he circles behind me I put my hands behind my back for him to grab. His warm fingers slide across my palms and link with my own fingers, spinning me completely around in time with the other women. But the difference between him and the other men dancing there is that the other men held their women a good distance away from them to maintain some modesty. But No Promises holds me so close to his body that I can feel every single hard, bulging muscle in his torso.

He looks down at me through his dark lashes and smiles. The cellos play their low notes quick and fast as I step away from him. He steps toward and takes both of my hands in his own as we circle around each other. Three claps to the right and he grabs my waist, twisting me around again.

Surprisingly I don't falter in my steps. There were some tricky foot and leg movements that I had had trouble mastering while learning with Emiline. But now, in the heat of the moment, I am mastering everything.

He notices this and smiles at me in satisfaction. "Quite seems like you're a natural with these complicated foot movements," he says, his lips quirking up in an amused little simper. "But let's see if you're any good at the lift."

The lift? Oh gods above, had I forgotten about that part? Emiline had explained to me that the lift was one of the most important parts of the dance. It symbolized the point where the predator caught the prey and 'devoured her up.'

I take a few steps back and line myself up with the other women. The violin string is plucked three times like a clock counting down to help us transcend into our lifts on time. When it is time, I race forth towards him somewhat timidly until I feel his strong hands on my hips as he lifts me into the air.

I steady myself by putting my hands on his shoulders as he spins me around in time with the other couples. The whole entire orchestra joins in together with the sole violin as they play the finale of "The Predator and the Prey."

He sets me back on my feet, placing one hand on my left shoulder while he forces me back four steps. Then his leg sweeps out from beneath him and he catches me as I fall, his face lingering mere centimeters away from that. "You weren't ready," he observes.

I blush so bright that I'm afraid my skin's been dyed from smooth ivory to rose red. "I suppose I forgot about that part." I say breathlessly.

He brings me back upwards until I'm standing straight up again. He grins a little. "I noticed," he replies.

He grabs my hand and pulls me off to the side so other people could enter onto the dance floor with their partners. I hear someone calling my name from behind me. Turning around, I can see Emiline hurrying towards me. "Bella!" she says. "I saw you dancing. You were amazing! I can see that my instruction did you well." I blush slightly and nod my head, turning around to look for No Promises.

Once I see that he's disappeared from my sight, I frown. He was there and disappeared into thin air just like a ghost. Emiline pulls me aside with her hand on my arm. "I saw you dancing with him, you know."

"Him?" My eyebrows furrow together and as I shake my head, it occurs to me whom she's talking about. "Oh."

She smiles at my sympathetically. "Yes, him. I just want to warn you. My brother's not one to keep a lady around too long so I wouldn't be surprised if he moves on to another lady rather quickly."

I take a deep breath as she says the word. The word I'd been dreading. _Brother. _How could I have been so naïve? So stupid? I'd been told of his beauty and his wrath before and I had just been too blind to see it when it was set right out in front of me clear as day. No Promises is Prince Jacob.

_You're a fool. You're a fool, Isabella Swan._ I think, as Emiline turns to greet some friends that came up behind her with wine glasses in their hands and big smiles on their faces. They brought gifts. I slowly drift away into the crowds with a sick sort of feeling in my stomach.

Suddenly the wine that I'd downed earlier seems to be getting to me rather quickly as my vision clouds slightly and the world becomes hazy and euphoric. I push past the people in my way. The time almost seems to slow down as I stumble towards the ballroom. I need to find Alice. I need to find someone.

I can feel the heat of a heavy hand as it clenches around my wrist and pulls me aside. "Come with me," he says. It echoes in my head as the heat of the ballroom fades away as he tugs me outside into the cool night. "We need to get away from here."

"No," I want to say but I don't. _I can't. _My mouth refuses to form the words. I stand there like a marionette puppet as he shows me to his great black steed, and hoists me up there. I can't move, or so it feels like. I can only see out of my eyes like a doll.

The wind in my face as we ride through the night. His arms are wrapped around me and even though I know that I'm not safe, the security makes me somehow relax. My heart pounds in my chest. I run my fingers over his knuckles as he grips the reins. He tenses up slightly and I feel something press against my back. I giggle because I know what it is and I know why it's there. We ride so fast through the night that the trees just look like blurs through my peripherals.

His horse jumps over a rock in the ground, pushing me back against him. He grunts softly before nudging me forwards a little. I've just grinded myself upon his obvious erection. He desires me and a flame is lit in my lower regions that tells me I desire him too.

We near a village that's beautifully lit with little lights, lanterns and mason jars filled with tiny fireflies. He slides from the back of his horse with ease and opens his arms for me to jump down. I fall forwards without knowing really where I'd be going, but he catches me softly and pulls me safely from the horse. He sets me on my feet and I wobble a little, holding onto him for stability. I don't know how this dizziness has hit me so quickly—I've never been 'drunk' before.

He takes one look at me before rummaging around in his pocket for a small glass vial. "Drink this," he says, screwing off the cap and pressing it at my lips. I turn my head to the side and back up against the same tree that his horse is tied to.

"No," I say. Then I cock my head to the side and point a shaky finger to the bottle in his hand. "What is it?"

"Trust me," he just says, and forces the liquid down my throat. I cough a little, the fog before my eyes floating away just like that.

The haze seems to go away instantly and I regain my normal consciousness again. He hands me a little canteen of water and I drink to help wash the funny taste of the mystery liquid from my tongue. "What was that?" I ask again.

"They call it Starlight," he replies. "I could tell you were slightly drunk on Fog."

"Starlight. Fog," I say in disbelief. "I was drunk on…_fog_?"

"Some guards think it comical to contaminate certain punch bowls with fog," he explains to me. "It does a funny thing to a person. Makes them go nearly _wild_ with sexual desire."

My eyes widen when he says this. Then I think back to the way I touched his hands on the way here, running my fingers over the rough ridges of his knuckles. How I giggled like a child when I felt his obvious erection against my back…and why for some reason, I liked it.

He takes a step forwards, a smug look on his face. Suddenly my mouth drops and I glare at him with an intensity that even he can't match. "Is…is _that_ why you brought me here?" I hiss at him. Then the realization hits me like a brick to the back of the head. Is he going to take me right here? On the outskirts of a village, in the darkness, where no one would be able to hear me scream?

"If I wanted to fuck you, I wouldn't have given you the Starlight." He says matter-of-factly.

I narrow my eyes at him, backing away from him slowly. He reaches out for me, but I bat his hand away. I don't believe him. "Do not touch me," I say in a low voice, knowing who he is and what he's done.

"Isabella…" he begins to say, but then his face falls and bitterness takes place of his sincerity that he'd shown just a few seconds earlier. He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes. "I would've given you some more. I would've pressed you up against that tree right there and done things with my mouth that would've make your knees buckle."

My eyes widen at his vulgarity, a little gasp emitting from my mouth. He smiles at this. I shake my head. "You're...you're…" I'm so flustered that I can't even find my own words.

He shrugs his massive shoulders. "I saved you from _yourself_, sweetheart. You could have done something you would have regretted," he says, coming closer towards me and propping his elbow up against the tree trunk so that he's directly beside me. "After all, those little touches you gave me while riding here dragged fire through my veins. You've got me burning so hot that my cock is like a volcano that's about to erupt. You're lucky that I don't bend you over right now. I ought to…I really ought to."

I move away from him with my face burning bright red in the night. "You're delusional." I stalk away from him in disgust with his words. It amazes me how he can go from being kind, someone I wouldn't mind being around, to a complete brute. He hollers for me to stop right where I am, but I don't wait for him. He leaves his horse there tied to the tree and pursues me on foot.

I'm nearing the village, hoping someone can point me back in the direction of the Canavarian castle. Right now, all I want to do is go and find Emiline and retire for the night. I feel a strong grip on my arm as he pushes me against another tree. "I said to stop," he growls.

His face lingers inches away from mine. His hair blows softly in the wind, soft black strands framing his strong jawline. I try to catch my breath, heaving in large gulps of air that makes my chest expand and contract. "I would _never_ lay with you willingly," I hiss at him. His smugness makes me turn unusually bitter. "I refuse to be just another conquest of yours. I just thought it would benefit you to know that."

He takes his free arm and puts it on the other side of my head, completely closing me in. His dark eyes wander my face until they meet mine, and when they do, I feel an electrical sort of zap zigzag through my veins and shock me right to the core with a strange feeling. Is it lust? "Your views can be easily changed," he retorts in a low, husky voice.

My face burns bright red. I hate that he treats me like a whore. I know that he is testing my limits, pushing me to my boundaries, but for what reason? That is the part unclear to me. I look him dead in the eye. "People have told me the stories about you," I say to him quietly over the dead silence of the night. The smug look that was once on his face fades away at hearing my words. His face falls a little. He pushes away from the tree and runs his hands through his thick, tousled hair.

"Have they?" he chuckles humorlessly, tugging at the roots of his black head of hair. "And what have they said?" He says it with mock interest.

"That you're a beast," I reply with menace in my tone as I clench and unclench my fists lying limp at my sides. "You're cruel. You have no respect towards women. You have countless whores and you've killed many men…it's all like a game to you."

He nods his head once, placing his hands on his waist. "Go on," he urges.

I'm fuming now. He must think this is funny. I'm disgusted by his attitude towards these subjects. "You can't be trusted! You rape women, you beat and torture your servants if they've done you wrong…you've more enemies than friends."

"That's where you're wrong," he laughs. "I've no enemies."

"Lies," I retort.

"I've no enemies because I've killed them all."

This comment takes me aback. I shake my head in disbelief. "Then you've proved my point."

"Then I've proved your point, sweetheart!" he yells back at me with the new nickname he's adopted for me. He's a smile on his face but it's not a smile of happiness or joy; it's one of evil and twisted amusement. "Do you want me to throw a party because of it? It's all true, fucking true. I have no mercy; I kill anyone that gets in my way. I've fucked over a thousand women and I've never felt a single thing for any one of 'em. Desires of the flesh, _Bella_." He shows me his hands.

Intimidated, I step back over a fallen log and fall back into the leaves. I scramble to my knees but he keeps me right where he wants me with his continued advances towards me. I know he's only trying to scare me with his words. So far it's working.

Everything Alice had told me about him was true. Especially the part about where he had a monstrous temper. "Suppose you know who I am," he says with a big grin on his face, looking down at me with those stormy eyes of his. It's not a friendly grin, not a sincere gaze. "Since you've been told so much about me, that is. C'mon, say it."

I keep my mouth shut in an act of defiance. That, and I'm too flabbergasted to even respond. "Say it. Say my name, sweetheart…I want to hear it spoken on your sweet, virgin lips. Voice it like it's a sin." When I still don't respond, he frowns. "Say it!"

This startles me into uttering his name past my lips. "_Prince Jacob_."

He relaxes then. "Ah. The ice is broken. Now we both know each other's identities." He offers me a hand; he wants to show me the way. Even after all of this verbal abuse, he still wants to show me the pretty lights on the houses.

I decide to go with him because, I too, wish to see the lights of the night that Emiline had spoken so gloriously of. I do not take his hand—I will not give him that satisfaction. I stand up on my own and brush the leaves and dirt from my dress. I walk out in front of him and lift my skirts, making my way down the little hill to reach the village. Jacob sighs and follows me. He stays silent for a little but he turns his head back to look at me and we make eye contact. "You don't know me, Isabella. You don't know my story. So don't tell it like you may think it is until you really know _what that_ is."

I breathe in through my nostrils, clenching my fists a little tighter. I look out towards the night sky and see the sky fading even darker, if it is even possible. Turning my eyes back upon him, I tip my chin upwards slightly, cocking my head. "And are you ever going to tell me your story?" I ask him, a sort of tremble in my voice despite my efforts to make myself look as superior and strong as possible.

Jacob shrugs his shoulders. "Someday."

The village that we near is bright and beautiful, but silent. Completely silent. As he leads me into the middle of the street, I can see the full splendor of the little place. "Why did you bring me here?" I ask him, looking around at the lights on the trees. Then I look at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "Besides to make sexual advances on me."

He laughs at this. Somehow hearing his laugh makes me relax a little. My anger slowly fizzles away into the night. "Wasn't my intention," he says, shaking his head. "I wanted to show you the lights, to see if the night made you more beautiful like you'd claimed. Not to fight with you."

I don't say anything, mostly because I'm not sure what to say. His words can both disgust me and melt away at the iron chains around my heart within a matter of seconds. It has me wondering what's wrong with myself since I obviously can't make up my mind about him.

The Prince Jacob everyone seems to know beats, rapes, and kills. He is a menacing, brutal person with a frightful temper, but still receives respect because he's a great military leader and Canavar's future king.

The Prince Jacob, from what he's shown me, has a darkened past of something that he's uneasy about showing plain as day to the people around him. He's done things that one would greatly regret, but he feels no remorse because that's all he's ever known. It seems like part of him wants to love but he doesn't know how to. He seems sincere towards me. When he says he's interested by me, it seems like he's genuinely so.

He pulls me up onto the porch of an empty house, one that's strung with lights across the roof over the porch, lanterns hung from rafters and jars of fireflies on the porch railing. He folds his arms and leans onto the railing.

"Is that really what they say?" he speaks up out of the silence of the night. His voice breaks through the crisp air like a knife through butter.

"What?" I ask him, not really comprehending.

"Do they…do they say that I'm a beast? That I kill, beat and rape?" Jacob looks over at me through a curtain of his hair.

I'm blunt with him. "Yes," I say. "It's true, isn't it?"

He grins, the creases in his cheeks standing out prominently. "Are the trees green?" He doesn't even bother to deny it.

"Why do you seem surprised, then? If you know what you do, it should have been obvious to you. And if the people know what you do, then they know what you are." I try to explain it as best as I can, but I don't really need to. Jacob already knows what I mean.

He turns his head towards me. "And you," he whispers over the sweet nighttime serenade of the crickets and locusts. "What do you think of me? Do you think me a beast?"

I'm somewhat shocked that he's asking me this question. I should turn to face him and scream in his face that he's a beast and a murderer and a horrid human being but I don't. "I only know what I've heard," I tell him. "When I see it, I'll believe it. For now…"

His dark eyes roam over my body. "For now what?"

"For now I'll just play the game cautiously." I reply to him softly. He doesn't need explanation to decipher my words.

He nods his head, fully understanding of my words. He touches the jar of fireflies sitting on the railing of the house. The little bugs inside of it buzz around, full of life. "Soon, the people will return to their homes. At the night's darkest hour, we release the floating lanterns, fireflies, and lights into the sky. Representing giving light to the night," he explains to me. "And then once this time of year, the great moon will turn golden before our eyes."

I look up towards the sky and see the silvery full moon riding high in the sky, the stars sparkling and twinkling around it. "I have never seen a golden moon," I whisper.

"That is because it is only seen in Canavar," he tells me. "Not Bravos, not the great cities of the north…only Canavar."

"When?" I whisper.

"Soon," he replies with a short nod. Then he looks up to the sky and studies the stars. "Very soon."

I look up at the sky as well, seeing the moon shimmering in the sky. "We should go back," I say.

"No," he says quickly. "We stay out here."

I shake my head at him. "No, you will be missed."

He laughs at this. "Maybe so," he says. "But I am grown and I may go where I please. One night won't hurt; I am sure those who miss you will be able to wait until the morn."

I look down at my feet as he starts to step off of the porch. "No one will miss me," I say. "I am a maidservant foreigner, and you are royalty of this land. Do you see the difference?"

He gives me a look. "I do not care about the difference, or your duties. You will come with me."

He grabs my wrist and he pulls me gently down the steps. "But where now?" I ask him. Jacob ignores me and looks around until he spots two jars of fireflies sitting on porches of little wooden houses, filled to the brim. He picks them up and hands them to me.

"Carry them," he says. Then he takes a two golden pieces out of his pocket and lays them down on the porch in place of the firefly jars. Then he sprints ahead of me to untie his horse.

I carry the two jars under both of my arms. When I look down I can see them flickering and clicking at the edges of the glass. I join him as he pulls his horse through the trees and deeper into the forest. I readjust the jars before walking in stride with him.

"You know, no one has ever spoken with me like you had tonight," he begins to say. I look up at him in interest. I do not say a word; I will let him do the talking if he wishes it be so. "I admire you for that. Most women cower at my feet."

I chuckle and shake my head. "No," I whisper. "That is not who I am."

He smiles at this. "I noticed. It will take more of my charm to make _you_ fall in love with me," he jests with me. I ignore him and look ahead. He nudges me softly in the arm. He whispers my name, regaining my attention. I glance at him from my peripherals. "I'll admit something to you."

I lick my dry lips. "What is it?" I question.

"I was pushing you," he confesses. "I was testing your limits. I wanted to see if you would give in or break down…but you didn't. And that surprised me. There's a shortage of strong women in this kingdom. I should know."

I knew it. Whilst this irks me, it also makes me feel pride. I didn't give into him and he admires me for it. I raise an eyebrow at him. "And you were only testing my limits when your sexual excitement was quite evident to the both of us?"

I am expecting him to laugh at this, but he does not. He stops walking for a moment, and I too, stop. He stares me straight into the eyes for a good minute, making me feel uncomfortable. My face burns bright in the starlight. "No," he finally says. "That was real."

I swallow a lump in my throat and begin to walk again. He stands there and watches me for a moment before opting to follow me, pulling on the reins of his black horse. I can't help but feel an odd feeling arise in my stomach, the blush still burning at my cheeks.

I keep my head down and keep walking for a little. I hear his voice behind me. I lift my head and look for him, but I don't see him. I feel someone come up behind me and I nearly jump twelve feet into the air. "You-!" I turn and smack him lightly on the arm. "You gave me a heart attack."

He grins and pulls me into the forest behind him. "Come on, the golden moon is almost in the sky."

I follow him until we reach a lake, a beautiful crystal clear lake. I've never seen water so clear before, especially not in Bravos. Our lakes were murky due to the muddy bottoms. I bend down to drag my fingertips across the cool waters. I can see the orange and white speckled fish swimming around, and the turtles and frogs sitting at the bottom.

He takes one of the jars from my arms and loosens the lid of one of them. I do the same. He's looking out past me at the glowing through the trees. "On the count of three," he instructs. "One…"

"Two…" I whisper.

"Three," he says we lift the lids of our jars, unleashing all of the fireflies up into the night sky. Then, I can see the thousands and thousands of floating lanterns, fireflies and candles being lifted away into the sky. It's so beautiful. I lift my hands to my mouth as my eyes widen, trying to take it all in.

He nudges me in the shoulder. "There it is," he tells me urgently. When I lift my eyes, I can see the moon, which is no longer a silvery-white color, but a bright sparkling gold. My mind cannot comprehend how something such as that would happen but it has.

The moonlight seems to spread along the land towards us, towards the little lake that we stand by. I wonder if it will come and hit us, but it passes in the blink of an eye. I look at him with an amazed look on my face. "And…this happens every year?" I ask with excitement laced in my tune.

"Every year," he confirms.

"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my entire life." I'm smiling so big that I bite my lip to try and tone it down a little. "I can't believe that I was a part of this year's festivities."

This comment takes him aback a little. He doesn't realize that Canavar is a thousand times better than my life at Bravos. Even though I'm still a maid, I'm respected and I have so much more freedom. I've never felt more happy to have been captured by the Canavarian shapeshifters.

Suddenly, a beam of bright golden light flashes before my eyes. I move away from the light instinctively and stumbled backwards but Jacob's hand juts out and grabs mine before I can tumble over a root and into the lake. When I open my eyes, I can see the golden light shining in the lake, reflecting off of the waters and onto me.

Not Jacob, but me.

He stands back a little when I'm steadied on my feet and admires me. He puts his thumb to his lip and lets it run down the dimple in his chin. "Amazing," he whispers. I go to move to him but he puts out his hands to stop me. "No! No…stay there."

I'm confused. I'm standing in the only strip of thin golden moonlight there is for miles around and he wants me to stand there. "Jacob…"

Suddenly, the moonlight fades away and just as quickly as it's there, it's gone. He moves towards me slowly, an enchanted look in his eyes. I shake my head. "What just happened?"

"The golden moon blesses a special few with its moonlight every few years. I have never seen something like that," he explains. "It passed over the kingdom and disappeared. And then it came back and it shone on you…"

"It is rare?" I question.

"Very," he agrees.

He comes towards me slowly, reach out his hand. Instincts tell me to slap it away because all of the hands that have come close to my face had come with the intention of injuring me. But something told me it was safe, so I stilled my hand and my body. He sweeps a curl of hair out of my eyes and tucks it behind my ear.

"You are…" he trails off, seemingly being unable to catch his own breath.

"I am what?" I question.

"_Beautiful_."

I inhale, trapping the breath within my lungs. I blush. "You've told me that before," I say for lack of better words to say.

He shakes his head. "No, you don't understand," he whispers. "Your beauty is like one of a goddess's. I have never…been so…"

His hand, which was on my cheek, begins to curl around to the back of my neck. He pulls me closer and closer to him. His lips linger millimeters away from mine. My heart pounds faster and faster in my chest. And just as his lips are about to touch mine, I pull away, running my hands over my bare arms. It's suddenly began to get a little chilly.

He looks slightly tinged with embarrassment. "I am sorry," he murmurs.

I nod my head. Something inside me told me to turn away. I still don't trust him, but I trust him much more than I had a few hours ago. He holds so many secrets within him that are begging to be discovered. And his story, his tale of woe…I wonder what that is. Where he came from, how he was raised.

I look back at him. His back is towards me and his hands are tugging at his thick black strands. He almost looks distraught. I look back up towards the moon, which has returned to its normal shade of silver-white. It almost seemed like that golden moonlight put him in some sort of trance. But what kind of trance? I've never seen someone look so enchanted, so mesmerized. It was almost like a spell.

He sighs. I turn around towards him and we make eye contact. When he looks at me, he almost seems in pain. But he jerks his head to the horse munching on grass by the tree line. "Let's go," he says.

0o0o0o0o

How did you like it? I had a blast writing it, and I hope that you guys had a blast reading it. The big reveal was in this chapter! So, obviously No Promises is Prince Jacob. And he obviously has some sort of a thing with Bella. And especially after that golden moon…something definitely happened there. **Review**! Tell me all your thoughts…I love reading them so much.

Courtney xx


	7. A Crimson Soul

The Taming

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews! Had many questions about the moonlight, and all I have to say is that everything will be explained eventually. Can't wait! The language I used was "Basque." I will include a dictionary at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter Seven: **_A Crimson Soul_

As we ride back to the castle, I can see the moon slowly fading into the sky as the sky begins to lighten up a little. It would seem that we've stayed up the whole entire night. The chilly wind rakes through my hair as the black steed races across the mile stretch of flat grassland. It's still dark outside, but I figure that most of the castle would now be retiring to their bedchambers.

The ride is quick, though. Jacob returns his horse to the stables and then joins me at the front entrance. He doesn't look at me. He only beckons with a sole hand motion for me to follow him down the corridor. I figure he must be embarrassed by my rejection.

He knows where his sister's room is and he's enough knowledge to know that my room is right across from hers. He opens the door for me and I step inside, my beautiful red dress sweeping across the floors. He stares down at the floor with his elbow propped up against the doorframe. Before he closes the door, I speak up. "Perhaps I should go check on Emiline before I retire," I murmur, not wanting him to lock me away just yet.

"I know her," he replies, still unwilling to look at me. "She is fine."

I frown at him, and then sigh. He is bitter and I know exactly why. "You look ill," I remark, straightening out my back a little. I set my cardinal mask on the small table by my bed. "Are you feeling well?"

It was true. His face was drained of color and his huge, 6'7 frame looked to be shimmering in the moonlight. "Fine," he replies. I raise my eyebrows at him. I know he's not "fine" and he's just refusing to tell me how he feels.

"Why don't you look at me?" I ask.

To this he doesn't respond. I shake my head in confusion. When I'm about to tell him to close the door, he lifts his head and those deep chocolate eyes burn right through me. Something deep in the pit of my stomach stirs up and my heart begins to flutter uncontrollably. This time it is me that looks away first.

His eyes, that intense sexualized gaze, seems like he's undressing me of all I wear without his hands. He makes me feel like I stand naked before me. "Now why do you look at me so?" I question, my voice cracking in the silence and my face turning bright red. I asked him for eye contact, not to make me feel like an inferior lamb that's about to be fucked by the lion.

His gaze is unrelenting. I move towards my wardrobe and open the doors. "You asked me," he whispers. "To look at you. So I look at you."

I nod my head. What he says is fair because I'd asked for it and had gotten myself into my own mess. "Well…goodnight, Jacob."

He seems to like when I speak his name. A smile tugs at his lips and I'm lucky enough to catch it. But as soon as it's there, it's gone. He turns his back and grabs the handle, closing the door as he walks out. "Goodnight, Isabella."

0o0o0o0o

I woke up, I dressed Emiline and I served the royals some eggs at the royal breakfast table. Now it's noontime, and the noontime meal is about to be served. I sit with Alice and Angelina and they are chatting about their night. Alice complains because she wasn't asked to dance much and Angelina sulks because she had to serve the night. I don't say anything about Jacob.

When they finally quit their pity party, they turn their heads towards me. "And you, Bella. How was your night?" Alice chirps.

"Find any young fellows?" Angelina chimes in hopefully, her big brown eyes wide.

I had dreaded the moment when they would ask me how my night was. As much as I hate to admit, my night was magical. The dance all the way to that odd golden moonlight thing. "One," I reply.

"Name!" Alice squeals.

I shake my head. "I do not know," I lie. "It was a masquerade ball. I couldn't tell who anyone was, quite frankly."

Angelina nods her head slightly, her jet black hair falling down her back. "Well, I know all of the guards were dressed as wolves. And so was the _prince_," she says dreamily. "Gods above, I wish I could have seen him."

Alice shakes her head with strong disapproval. "They're all slimy beasts," she growls. "Mutts. Dogs that belong in the doghouse."

"Keep your voice down," Rosalie snaps from beside her. "Gods forbid that one of them come over here and hear you."

"Let them," Alice snaps right back at her. "What I'd give to give Lahote a piece of my mind."

As Alice and Rosalie argue about stupid little things, Angelina pulls me aside. "Have you ever seen him, Bella?" I don't know how to respond to this. I'm relieved when Angelina starts talking again, not even caring for a response from me. "Oh, he's beautiful. He's just…gorgeous. Alice has a personal hatred towards the guards and the prince. I can see why, though."

I know that Angelina speaks of the incident between Lahote and Alice and how Alice had never really been the same after it had happened. "Yeah," I agree softly.

She looks at me expectantly, like she's waiting for me to spill something. When I continue to keep up my charade of silence, she licks her lips and nods her head in acceptance. She looks back down at her eggs. "You know, the prince has never showed kindness towards any of the maids. He really doesn't show affection to women, except for the occasional chaste kiss he might give to his sisters."

"Oh." I say. I tear a piece of buttered bread with my teeth and chew it slowly. Angelina stares at me again. She's fidgety and the corners of her lips twitch into a half smile. She almost looks annoyed with my one word responses.

"Okay Bella," she sighs. "Stop hiding it, okay? I know you danced with him. I was just hoping you'd tell me."

My eyes widen. A piece of bread gets stuck in my throat as I gasp in shock and I lurch forward, clutching at my throat. "What?" I squeak through my violent coughs. "How—how do you know?"

Angelina claps me hard on the back and the toast lodged in my throat successfully makes it down my esophagus. "I saw you at the ball," she explains. "I knew what you were wearing. I knew you were that beautiful cardinal bird and I knew that he was the brown wolf. It was easy for me to put two and two together."

I look down at my plate and poke at my chicken and beans with my fork. "Angelina, you mustn't—"

She cuts me off with a warm smile. "Do not worry," she reassures me. "No one will hear of this from me."

"Thank you," I sigh in relief. I know that Alice would faint in horror if she found out that I spent the most magical night of my life with, not a guard, but Prince Jacob. Angelina moves her chair closer to mine.

I inwardly groan, not really wanting to explain my night. But there is something that I have questions about. "Alright," I sigh. "I was apparently drunk on fog when it happened."

"Fog," Angelina says in disgust. "Those guards can be lustful pigs, scotching the wine pitchers with that drug." She nods for me to go on before adding, "Boy, I hope he didn't take you."

"He didn't," I whisper. "He took me out to the forests where there's a little village—I don't know what it's called—and he gave me Starlight? I think that's what it's called. It made my dizzy spell from the fog go away. And then he took me to the lake to see the floating lanterns and the golden moon."

Angelina nods her head. "I'm surprised he was being that nice to you," she admits. "I would have expected him to give you more fog and take you in the forest."

"Me too," I agree. "But he didn't. He said it was 'for my own good.'"

"Interesting," Angelina murmurs. "And what about the golden moon? Wasn't it beautiful?"

That's where my questions begin to come in. "What is the golden moon? I mean, I was told some history, but when the light shone on me, he kind of freaked—"

"Wait. You said it shone on you?" Angelina's jaw drops a little when I nod my head. She shakes her own head in disbelief. "That's really very rare. Bella…you must tell me exactly how he reacted when he saw you."

I don't understand the point of her questions. I shrug my shoulders. "I don't really know. I guess he was kind of shocked." I leave out the part where he told me I was beautiful with goddess-like features.

I look back down at my plate, thinking of last night with wide eyes. The dark, starry night illuminated by the sparkling moonlight from the legendary golden orb in the sky. A sharp gasp echoing from next to me startles me. When I look out of the corner of my eye, I can see a giant, lanky man standing next to Angelina, stroking his long fingers across her cheek. "Angel, darlin'," he croons. "Didn't greet me this morning. Begun to worry that you didn't love me anymore."

Angelina scowls at the man who is standing next to her. He has shorter hair than Jacob and it's shaggier than his too. This man is slim, but with lean, taut muscles on his arms and legs. His hands are so large that I fear he could snap my neck with his thumb only. When he smiles, his white teeth flash out brilliantly. His sunken cheeks add to this inept beauty of his.

She moves his hand away from her cheek, but he only puts it lower than where it was before. His fingers scrape across her jaw. "Do not touch me," she hisses at him, turning back to her food with a bright red face. "Leave me."

"No," this man whispers, leaning closer to her. He forcefully turns her head towards his with a raging look in his eyes. "I came for what I was _promised_."

She bats him away, standing up in defiance. "You are a savage," she seethes at him through her teeth, anger in her big black eyes.

This only fuels his fire. "And you are _puta!"_

"_Kabroia!"_

_**Crack!**_

I don't quite know what's just happened but I can see Angelina storming away with steam practically flowing out of her ears. The man just stands there flabbergasted with a red mark on his face in the shape of a handprint. "Ange_lina_!" He calls after her and starts in a sprint for her out of the dining hall. No one pays attention but the maids table. The royals and nobles are laughing about proper things and jewelry and money and killing immortals.

I turn to Alice, feeling a little green. "What did he mean that he was…promised something?"

Alice grimaces. "I think you know what it means, Isabella," she whispers to me.

Rosalie rolls her eyes. "Oh, tell her Alice. Don't mince words."

"You know I don't," the short haired woman snaps back at the blonde. Then she turns towards me. "Angelina probably promised him her body in return of a favor."

My face grows red with embarrassment. I should have known that. But what's even more interesting is that I never thought Angelina would have given her body to someone with a price on it like that. I would have never thought it would be to such a rude man, nonetheless.

"Guards make stupid deals," Rosalie explains. "Angelina probably needed money for something. Maybe for food…medicine, or some of that really good cleaning powder that Old Woman Marcel makes."

"Yes," Alice readily agrees. "Quite plausible."

Behind me, I can hear the squeaking of wooden chairs sliding crudely against nice marble flooring. "They must be finished," I remark quietly. I turn my head, looking at the long table sitting in the middle of the grand room.

My eyes instantly search him out and as soon as I find him, he finds me. Those deep chocolate eyes widen a little and I can see his lips twitch a little. My face is turning red and I can feel it. He knows what he's doing to me and he thinks that it's comical. He lets out a hearty laugh that echoes loudly in the dining hall.

I look away to see Alice scowling and Rosalie nearly fainting in her seat. "He's so beaut—ow!" Rosalie recoils from Alice's hand with a frown on her lips. "Why'd you hit me?"

Alice ignores her. She turns towards me. "Let us leave before they ask for our help," she giggles. I smile at her, taking her hand as she tugs me towards the back entrance of the dining hall. It leads outside.

"Alice," I say. "Why are we going outside?"

She fights the urge to roll her eyes. "Why else?" she asks. Then her tone turns happier and she squeals, "To see the gardens, of course!"

0o0o0o0o

I sit under a peach tree in full bloom, the ripe juicy fruit hanging off of the branches like delicious weights. Alice has a rose in her hand. She had picked it cautiously from the bush beside the peach tree, careful not to stick herself with the sharp thorns on the stem and in the bush.

She lifts it to her nose, inhaling the sweet flowery scent. "Smell this," she tells me, holding the red flower to my nose. I inhale; it smells wonderful, just like the ones that used to grow around my old house back when I used to live with my evil aunt. "Roses are my favorite flower."

I look up at her. "Because they are the flower of love," I say with a little jest in my tone. Alice looks at the rose in her hand and sighs in disgust. She throws it back into the garden. She sits down on the marble bench beside me. I raise my brows in question. "Why did you do that?" I ask.

She sighs, shaking her head. She looks down at her feet. "After what happened to me, I don't think I could ever love a man like that. I couldn't give him what he wanted, and I know that all men crave sexual intimacy."

I'm surprised to hear this. "Oh Alice," I murmur. "Don't worry! There's someone out there for you. When you meet him, you won't believe it. He'll heal you in more ways than one and you'll be able to fall in love again."

"Maybe," she whispers so softly that I can barely even hear her. "One day."

From the garden I can see the pathway in front of the castle. An extravagant white and blue carriage pulls up in front of the strong, white marble pillars that support the roof over the massive doorway of the Canavarian castle.

I pull Alice out of her sorrowing and point over at the carriage. "What's that?" I ask her. She looks up from where she was staring at her feet and squints her eyes at the carriage that's stopped in front of the castle's front entrance. Men flood out from the castle to help whoever is inside of the carriage. One of them opens the door.

Out peeks a little blue shoe attached to a dainty foot and a dainty leg wrapped in smooth white stockings. Then comes the rest of her. She has trouble fitting her giant light blue dress through the small doorway of the carriage so one of her handmaidens help her with it. Out pops the girl, fussing and squawking about her hair and her dress.

She is a beautiful girl, with her flaxen hair coiled into tight ringlets and piled atop her head. Her cerulean blue eyes are framed by long, light brown eyelashes and her plump cheeks (like those similar to a child's) were powdered with white and dabbed with a streak of red to add a little bit of color. Her lips are glossy and red and her tiny breasts are pushed up abnormally high due to the extreme tightness of her bodice.

I shake my head in confusion. "Who is that?" I ask Alice in confusion. She looks like no one I have seen in Canavar before. These people are people of dark skin, hair and eyes. They are in no ways _fair_ like this mysterious maiden.

A trumpet sounds over by the carriage and I draw my eyes back in time to see one of the girl's servants unrolling a blue flag. "Belgras," Alice confirms. "That girl is Lady Portia of Belgras. She is a close friend to the princess of Belgras."

I cock my head to the side. "What is she doing here?" I ask. As I'm in the midst of asking the question, a few of the Canavarian representatives ascend from the stairs to greet the young girl. The elderly men shake her dainty white hand and then part as they wait for someone to arrive.

"I think I know," Alice whispers. Just then, Prince Jacob presents himself, smoothly walking down the steps with the smirk I know all too well plastered onto his face. "He must be courting her."

As soon as Lady Portia sees Jacob, her child-like face turns bright red and her skin color helps to show that. She lets him kiss her hand and she bats her long eyelashes at him, giving a little giggle. I look up at Alice in shock.

Alice starts to snicker. "The king simply must be getting older and losing his mind," she snarls. "How many times does his son have to break a porcelain doll for him to realize that he shouldn't have them anymore?"

Her porcelain doll reference has much deeper meaning and it's amusing to me. Alice just keeps on ranting to me. "He's had over a thousand whores per year and he doesn't give a damn about any of their well-being. Probably has fathered a couple of children, too. Wouldn't surprise me. Nothing would surprise me about him! Each fancy noblewoman or princess that the king has brought over from foreign lands has been ridiculed by him." Then Alice points to Lady Portia. "I'm sure that she'll last maybe a week. Maybe less. Then she's done away with."

I furrow my eyebrows together. "What do you mean by 'she'll last maybe a day', Alice?" I question, looking back at the pretty blonde that is chatting and giggling with Prince Jacob. He smiles at her and strokes a blonde curl out of her eyes.

"Before he fucks her," Alice quips. "Yeah. They don't last but a day usually. He can charm them into his bed on the first night if he really, really wanted to. He knows that every woman he comes by is easy, so he has no trouble in acting like a savage-like, sex-craving beast. And you know how women want big men like him. He's desired across the whole damn continent."

I see him whisper something into Portia's ear and whatever he says makes her face go bright red and she giggles uncontrollably into her hand. She then proceeds to look up at him and bite her lip. I can practically hear his groan from all the way over here. I suddenly feel spiteful and a pang of bitterness towards the young girl standing before Jacob.

Is it jealousy? No. _No_. Why would I feel jealousy?

She takes his hand as he leads her up the entrance stairs and into the castle. Alice sneers and shakes her head. "By the way she was acting, I don't even think she'll last a week. Maybe three days. Maybe two."

"Alice, I don't—"

Again, she cuts me off before I can finish my sentence. "Let me explain it to you in depth, Isabella. Giving Lady Portia to Prince Jacob is like throwing a piece of meat into a wolf den. It's just not going to end well."

I look back at the stairs. Lady Portia's fancy carriage is rolling away down the long pathway. Some of the servant men clean up the pathway and carry their things back inside of the castle. The same odd feeling surges through me. Alice rolls her eyes at sits back down beside me. She pulls a peach off of a vine and sinks her teeth into the fruit's soft flesh.

"Want one?" she offers, nodding her head up towards the branches above her.

"No," I say quietly.

0o0o0o0o

Emiline had asked for a glass of wine so I'd gone to the kitchens to fetch her some. In one hand I held an expensive porcelain goblet, one of Emiline's favorite goblets, and in the other I held a pitcher of wine. I make my way down the hallway, my boots clomping against the wooden floor.

I normally don't pay attention to whose on the opposite side of the hallway, but a flash of bright yellow catches my eye. I instantly know who it is. I avert my eyes down to my feet, hoping she won't see the bitterness in my eyes. But she does anyways.

"You there," she calls, flapping her white fingers in front of my face. Her little blonde ringlets fall out of her pinned bun and into her face. "What do you carry in that pitcher there, maid?"

_Maid_. I'm almost tempted to tell her that I have a name, but I refrain. "Wine," I reply to her.

She peers inside of the pitcher I'm holding in my hands, forcing herself into my space. She sniffs the liquid before nodding her head. "Yes, I want some."

I'm confused. Did I forget offering her wine? I chuckle humorlessly and shake my head. "No, no. This wine is for—"

She doesn't let me finish. "No? How dare you refuse me! I am a guest in this castle and this lack of respect from a _lowly_ _handmaiden_ is quite unbecoming!" Her pale face turns bright red with anger when I still don't give up the goblet. I only step back against the wall, preparing to make a hasty retreat.

She stomps her little foot on the ground, her face turning even redder. "You stupid, insolent girl! Give me the wine." And she reaches for the goblet, tugging it out of my hand. Her pale hand knocks the wine pitcher over, spilling the red liquid all over me. Next to me, Emiline's favorite goblet smashes against the cold marble floor and shatters into nearly a hundred little pieces.

I hear a loud shout and heavy footfall coming down the hallway towards us. It's Prince Jacob. Lady Portia clings to his arm, crying to him that I'd insulted her terribly and that she tried to defend herself when I _tripped_ and _fell_, spilling the wine all over myself.

Jacob turns his menacing eyes upon my still figure against the floor and studies me. "Isabella," he barks out. I do not answer him. "Isabella!" I still don't answer.

"What are you doing?" he growls at me, seeing the wine covering the floors. From behind him, Lady Portia whines and whimpers to him about me, but I don't listen. I try to push myself up from where I'm sitting but my hand slips in the mess on the floor and I end up sliding back down and cracking my head against the wall.

Sighing, Jacob unlinks his arm from a clingy Portia and bends down so he's eye to eye with me. He acts like he cares. Using his big arms, he shoves his hands into my armpits and hoists me up. He acts like I'm as light as a feather with the way he whips me up onto my feet. I'm so angry at what happened that I don't want to even speak. I don't want to look at her and I don't want to look at him because I fear that I'll blow up on them both and say questionable things.

His hand goes under my chin and tips my face upwards towards his. "Speak," he murmurs. I can see Lady Portia behind him, clearly not liking the fact that he's touching me, a lowly handmaiden, in such a way.

I look him straight in the eye. "She lies," I whisper, my voice trembling. In his eyes, he seems to know that I am telling the truth. He tucks his chin a little, giving a little nod so small that it's barely detectable. He believes me.

Lady Portia gives a squeal of surprise. Jacob's nice demeanor seems to vanish as soon as he hears her. He yanks his hand away from me and steps back to her, wrapping her in his warm embrace. He puts on his hard, unaccepting face. He nods his head towards the mess on the floor.

"Clean this up," he says. And then he looks at me, and my drenched, bloody red figure. "And clean yourself up too."

My face burns bright red. Maybe he didn't believe me after all. I look at him, feeling betrayed even though I've no right to. I turn my back, sulking down the hallway. Wine drips from my clothes and down my face.

I hate Prince Jacob. I hate him and his god-awful excuse of a woman Lady Portia.

0o0o0o0o

**Basque Dictionary**

**Puta: **Whore

**Kabroia: **You bastard

Thanks for reading, guys. I'll have more out soon. I really love writing this story and I'm glad everyone else is enjoying it too. I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter, so um, click that review box. (: More reviews equal a more inspired writer and an inspired writer equals faster updates. So sorry about the wait. Midterms have been hectic, but taking time from fanfiction helped me to ace all of them. But I'm back! And hopefully here to stay for a while.

Courtney xx


	8. Warnings

The Taming

**Author's Note: **So pleased with the reviews! I even got new reviewers, which is always super exciting to me. Most of you responded to Lady Portia just like I'd hoped. Bella hates her, I hate her, all of you hate her. But she's going to be sticking around for all good reasons. You guys will probably despise both Jacob and Portia in this chapter, but keep in mind that _everything has a purpose. _Thanks! Enjoy chapter eight.

**Chapter Eight: **_Warnings_

"Gods above, what happened to you?" Emiline brings her hand to her mouth as her brown eyes widen in shock at the mere sight of my drenched form. I'd just come from cleaning the hallway of the wine. I even had to throw away her favorite goblet.

I don't explain right away, my face burning even redder. "Might I be able to bathe?" I ask her. She nods her head quickly. I turn my back to go down to the bathing halls specifically designated for maids and servants but she grabs my arm and leads me to her own private bath right there in the room. "Oh no, I couldn't." I protest.

"You can and you will," Emiline murmurs. She points to several wooden buckets warming up near a fire in the bathroom. She takes a bucket and pours it into the great wooden tub, and I help her until the bath is completely filled with the hot water.

I undress my rags, throwing them in the trash basin because Emiline had claimed that there was no way to save the cloth with all of the wine stain on it. The only time I'd ever been in here was to help Emiline bathe, but now it is the other way around. I wash myself, refusing to let her wash me if I didn't need it.

But when it came to my hair, she insisted. "You must try this soap," she murmurs. "It smells of cherry and the vanilla plant found in Belgras. It was a gift from their princess to me."

_Belgras. _I'd learned to despise that very name. As she lathers the soap into my hair, I tell her what happened to me. "She dumped the wine on me because I wouldn't give her your own glass," I whisper.

Emiline stops scrubbing for a second. "Who did?" she asks.

I turn around and look her in the eye. "Lady Portia of _Belgras_. That's who."

"Oh." Emiline resumes scrubbing. "I met her earlier this morning. Prince Jacob is courting her for a few weeks, so she'll be staying in Canavar for a while. She was nice, but proper. Very fussy. My brother will have a hard time with her."

My mouth automatically turns into a frown when I hear that she will be staying here for a few _weeks_. "Does he court many?" I ask her quietly. Emiline grabs a bucket of warm water to wash the sweet smelling soap out of my hair.

She shakes her head. "No, he doesn't enjoy it. He doesn't want a wife, but our father demands it of him. Jacob's stayed content with whores for most of his life," Emiline says in disgust. "But my father has started to bring over beautiful maidens from other kingdoms to try and catch his eye. Perhaps change his mind about marriage, and choose one of them as his bride."

Warm water rolls down my naked shoulders as she pours another bucket on the back of my hair. "He does not wish to marry?" I question.

"He's told me before. He doesn't talk to me all too often, but he talks to me more than my other sisters. He barely talks to them at all. He's always busy with women, getting into fights, or training with the guards." Emiline explains. "His mind could change, but I doubt it will happen unless someone comes along that challenges his skill a little. I can tell that's what he wants. All women come easy to him. Never has to try for his women, and you know that a wolf's favorite pastime is the chase. The dance of the predator with its prey."

Emiline hands me a towel and I stand from the bathtub, wrapping the cloth around my body. I feel refreshed, clean and new. "Thank you," I murmur. She hands me a new handmaiden's outfit that she'd taken into the private bath with us.

"I'll leave you to dress, then." Emiline whispers. The pink, shiny scars on her face wrinkle up when she gives me a smile. "Then we'll come and talk by the fire so you can warm up."

She shuts the door and I look around the dark room, illuminated by the roaring second fireplace and a few aromatic candles scattered here and there. By the tub there is a tall mirror. I drop my towel and stare at my naked body in the mirror. On my arms are the small cuts that were the result of a broken wine pitcher. They are all healing fairly well, but one still bleeds. I wipe a droplet away with my finger and wipe it on a handkerchief. And my hands are even tinier cuts, the result of me trying to save a wine glass that was already gone.

Sighing, I slip on my new dress and exit the room. Emiline invites me to sit in the chair next to her. She hands me a cup of warm 'cocoa' as these people called it. It's a delicious hot drink with milk, grinded cocoa beans, vanilla and sugarcane. "This is good," I tell her. "Very good."

"Specialty," she replies. "I love it. Samuel used to get it for me when he went scouting because, as they say, the best cocoa beans are found deep in the Crooked Forest."

I take a sip of cocoa, letting the sweet, warm liquid slide down my throat. "And Samuel…does he court you, Emiline?"

Instantly her face turns redder. "Well, I suppose it's kind of like that. It's informal. My father, even though Sam is the leader of the guards, fears his strength while with me. You know how the guards, including my brother, are abnormally strong. That's due to their shapeshifting abilities; it makes them super durable to fight immortals."

When I hear the word, I instantly cringe. "Haven't seen one in ages," I whisper. "Wouldn't like to, either."

Emiline nods her head, taking a sip of her cocoa. "Haven't been many around these parts. The guards patrol around the area everyday so if they find something you can be sure it'll be gone real quick."

I sit in my chair and sip my cocoa, thinking about how I'd never seen a Canavarian shapeshifter in _shapeshifter form. _"Are they very big?" I ask her.

"Huge," Emiline agrees. "Sam has a beautiful black coat. It…it's very glossy and shiny in the sunlight. Brilliant yellow eyes and these…these sharp, razor-like _claws_…" Her eyes widen as she looks down at the floor. Her cup slips from her hand and shatters on the floor.

I give a little shout in shock and I instantly go to her, making sure she's alright. "What is wrong?"

She bats me away lightly. "No, no. Nothing. Everything is good and fine." Then she looks down at the shattered cup, and the brown liquid on the floor. "Oh gods. I've made a mess."

She bends down to clean up the shards. "No, no," I say. "I'll clean it, Emiline. Do not worry about it."

I bend down to clean up the sharp shards of glass and dab away the cocoa with a rag. Suddenly I hear a gasp behind me. "Oh no, it's bleeding again!" Emiline whimpers. She's staring into a mirror and one of the gashes across her face has started to drip blood down her face from a cut near her eye. It makes her look like she's crying blood.

I rush to her and take out my silky white handkerchief, dabbing away the blood. The cut heals quickly, as it stops bleeding as soon as I remove it. "What happened?" I ask her. She shrugs and turns away.

"Sometimes they bleed," Emiline whispers. Then she clarifies, "My scars."

"For no reason?" I ask. She nods. "Don't you think that's odd?"

She nods again. "Sometimes."

"It's almost dinner," I comment. "Let me help you get ready."

"Ah yes," Emiline whispers, dabbing at the corner of her eye, wiping the excess droplets of blood away. "Dinner with Lady Portia."

0o0o0o0o

In the middle of the table there's a giant roasted pig, honey glazed and searing with an apple in its mouth. The king sits at the head of the table and next to him are the twin princesses, Rachel and Rebecca. Emiline sits next to Rebecca and across from Samuel, who looks at Emiline like she's a rare diamond and he's prepared to steal her away when no one's looking. Lady Portia sits beside Emiline, across from Jacob.

I study him as I roll out the trays of bread. He does not look at her. Instead, as the servants cut the pig, he watches them with interest as the tip of their knives slice into the belly of the roasted animal. He must be hungry.

I carry the tray of bread over to the head of the table as directed. I set the tray down in front of the king and the twin princesses. They do not thank me; no one ever does, nor are they obliged to. The second tray of bread I hold in my hands is going towards Emiline and Samuel's side of the table. And he _sits_ right beside Samuel.

I maneuver myself around the table, trying to find a way to deliver the bread. Emiline sees me having a mental fight with myself and just nods her head, as if trying to tell me it is okay. Sighing, I step between Samuel and Jacob, setting down the bread in front of them.

I can feel Jacob's eyes burning into my skin as I lean over him to be able to set down the tray. His hand raises a little along my thigh but I ignore it and step away from him quickly. I don't know if it was intentional or not. Knowing Jacob, I conclude that it probably was intentional.

Lady Portia looks at the bread and scowls. "Maid," she calls. I suspect she's calling me and I turn around. She points a petite white finger at the bread. "Bring the butter."

I nod my head once and turn back to the cart. There's a slab of butter laying on a little porcelain butter tray. I go back to the table and set the tray down before her. She glares at me. I just look away. He grabs my hand when I leave, preventing me from walking away. "I must speak to you," he murmurs. I look into his eyes, studying him completely. Is this a joke?

He gulps, his brown eyes searching my face. My mouth opens a little in slight shock that he's being so blunt with me. I drop my eyes to the floor, as we're making somewhat of a scene.

I pull my hand out of his and leave to the servant dining table. Alice sees the way he looks back at me and scowls. She pulls out the chair for me and allows me to sit. "He gives you strange looks," Alice grumbles. "I hate it."

I nod my head. _You are not the only one,_ says one part of my consciousness and then the other says, _Don't be silly, you like it._

"Have you seen her?" Rosalie asks, nodding to Angelina's empty seat. I look around the room.

"Come to think of it," I murmur, scouting the room with my eyes for the sweet girl with the long black hair. "I haven't. Not for a few hours."

Alice inhales deeply and shakes her head. "I don't want to know."

I take a bite of my crisp green bean. "Well…who was that man that came to visit her? Called her those names?"

Rosalie inhales. "It was Call," she whispers. "Embry Call."

Alice nods. "He's not the worst of them. In fact, he's one of the nicer ones. But Angelina's seemingly gotten on his bad side. But how…that's the question."

I wipe the corner of my mouth with my napkin. "I should look for her," I whisper. "What if she's hurt?"

Rosalie shakes her head. "Angelina's a grown woman. She knows how to take care of herself."

I look back down at my plate and nod. "Of course." I prod my pork and beans with my silver fork. My hair hangs down my back in loose waves, the result of a fresh cleaning beforehand. I smell like Emiline's fancy soap; I smell like royalty.

"Oh!" squeals Alice. "Have you seen the new woman that Prince Jacob is courting?"

"Who hasn't?" Rosalie mumbles, her mouth full of green beans. "She's hard to miss. Blonde and fair skinned…she's like a white lamb in a pen with black lambs. And her style of dress…it's odd. A petticoat and a large train like that. I believe they call them bustles back in Belgras."

I look back at the royalty and nobility table. Jacob is speaking to Portia and she's giggling like a mad little fool. He, however, isn't. He seems disinterested with his dinner and his lady and his whole current situation.

I look back to my plate. I don't have much food left. The royals were especially hungry tonight.

0o0o0o0o

It is getting darker as I stroll down the corridor. My brown dress sweeps along the floors, my hair tumbling over my shoulders and down my back. I see the door open a little ways in front of me. Out comes a woman with long black hair. She looks like Angelina. I call her name, but she does not turn around. She turns the corner in the hallway and disappears.

I lift my skirts and follow her. I peer into the room. She'd left the door open. It was a large room with a massive bed and a roaring fire. This surely couldn't have been Angelina's room. I shut the door and hastily pursue her.

The corner I turn leads to another long hallway. She's at the end of the hallway, walking through and opened door. Interested, I follow her. In the giant room there's a stone fountain with a beautiful painted monument of a wolf on it. She collapses on the floor, pressing her hands to her lips and murmuring a soft prayer.

Then she dips her hands into the water and splashes it on her face. I open my mouth to speak and my voice cracks a little. "Angelina?" I gasp. She turns her face slightly. There is a cut on her lip and a faint bruise on her jaw.

"You should not be here," she whispers. She turns back to the water and cups some into her hands and sips it. "You need to go away."

I shake my head, shutting the door behind me. I'm not going anywhere. "Angelina, nobody has seen you for hours. We began to worry." I gesture at her bony, tired frame. "And by the looks of you, you're not okay."

I come to her and kneel beside her. She flinches when I touch her shoulder. "I came here for privacy," she hisses at me. "Privacy only."

I look up at the wolf sculpture on top of the stone fountain. "Is it a god?" I question. "An elder?"

She stays silent for a moment, her long black hair draped over her shoulders. "God," she replies after a few agonizingly silent moments. Then she nods her head again. "Yes. God."

I move closer to her and she inches away slightly but restrains herself. "And you must tell me why you pray," I whisper. I touch her arm softly. "Why this look of sadness lingers in your eyes."

She dips her hand into the cool, running waters and slumps against the lip of the fountain. "I pray but they do not answer."

"Gods can be tricky beings," I whisper. "Sometimes they may grant your wishes and you won't know that they did."

"They have not answered and nor will they answer," she says, turning to me. She looks me straight in the eye. "I am with child."

All of the air in my lungs is sucked out of me with that sole statement. "H…His?" Angelina knows who I mean and she nods her head.

"I have tried everything, Isabella. He wants nothing to do with this baby. And me—I'm not ready." She wipes her leaky eyes with the back of her hand. "The healers said that there were potions to get rid of it."

I gasp. "Angelina, no," I say, shaking my head.

"You don't understand," she hisses at me. "You cannot judge. You are not in my position. This is the hardest thing I've ever done! I can't take care of a baby. I can barely take care of myself." She lets out a sob.

My eyes widen as I go to comfort her. "You don't have to go through this alone," I whisper to her, wrapping my arms around my shoulders.

She looks up at me through her wet black lashes. "Oh, Bella. Naïve, virgin Bella. I will tell you this; Prince Jacob is not good for you. Everything they have ever told you about guards is right. He is the worst. He has no feeling, no remorse. If you fall in love with him, he'll break your heart like Embry broke mine."

My eyes widen. I'm surprised at the venom in her tone. She stands from where she sits and exits hastily out the door. I lean against the fountain and sigh. Maybe she's right. I'd let my guard down quite a bit at the Masquerade Ball and he'd gotten to me a little. It was just the charm that had gotten to me.

I bite my lip and shake my head. _No. I'm not going to be like the rest of them._

0o0o0o0o

It's night. The stars can be seen shining down from the heavens from the rectangular window in my bedroom. It's been past the time of ten o' clock, where most everyone has retired to their bedchambers for slumber. But I cannot sleep, for some things can't be rid from my mind. I think of Angelina and her unborn child. I think of Jacob. I think of Alice and her horrid experience with the guards.

The candle on my bedside table still burns brightly. Tonight I'd not bothered to pinch out the flame, for the faint flicker against the walls in the blackness was comforting to me. Staring up at the wall was long past the point of being dull, so I sit up in bed and throw the covers from my body.

Maybe a walk around the quiet castle will help me to clear some things.

I grab the stubby block of wax sitting on the candle holder and go to my door. Turning the knob makes a sharp noise in the peaceful quiet and my heart stops at the thought of someone hearing. But the quiet is still quiet and the quiet is still the same.

Using my candle, I navigate around the hallways and dark corridors. My bare feet pad softly against the cold floors as my night gown sweeps behind me like a magnificent white cape.

My hair is long behind me and lays in tightly coiled curls. I hold out the candle before me, letting the dim light wash over the walls blackened by the night. I don't know how many doors I've passed by the time I reach the end of the hallway. The cool current drifting through the hall, the silvery blue moonlight filtering through windows, the sound of only my breath; they are all things that distract me.

This reminds me of when I was younger, holding my lantern out in front of me as I wandered freely about the dark forest near my house. I can remember it was as thrilling as it is now, the idea of being caught still lingering in the back of my mind.

I can hear the voices in my head telling me to go back to my room before I am caught roaming the hallways alone like this. I'm already not trusted by the king and an act like this could cause my downfall in this kingdom. I come to an intersection of three hallways. I am about to keep walking straight, but a faint light to the left of me catches my attention.

As curious as I am and have always been, I turn the left corner and slowly make my way down the hallways, balancing myself on the balls of my feet so make as little noise as humanly possible. As I near the room with the faint, flickering light, I can hear noises.

Little mewls, soft grunts. The sound of _skin_ on _skin_. My eyes widen. I step to the side so I can peer through the crack in the door. That's when I see it. A copper, toned backside thrusting forwards in a face paced motion into a little white body. She squirms and clutches at him, little quick sounds coming from her pretty little mouth.

He pumps deeper, hovering over her like a giant. She lets out a loud yell and he clamps a hand down her throat. Her eyes widen as her hands find the larger hand around her neck. She smiles. She likes it.

I feel a surge of jealousy run through me. I remember what Alice had told me-that Lady Portia wouldn't last a day. She was right, so painfully right. I feel myself beginning to turn sour. Bitter, like milk that's been left out too long.

He throws back his head and lets out a moan, black stands of hair tumbling over his shoulders. I turn away and press my back against the wall, clutching at my chest as if I'm afraid my heart will fall right through my ribs. I hear his voice, his moans, intermingled with her wanton cries and I feel a deep remorse well up inside of me. As much as I fight it, the lone tear streaks down my cheek. I have no place here.

I walk away slowly, my hair hiding my face. Why am I surprised at this? I knew what he was from the start. I should have known that the way he looked at me was nothing special. But even though I knew what I was going into, it still hurt to see him with her after he'd come so close to kissing me on the night of the ball.

I'd not taken the warning given. And now I am paying.

0o0o0o0o

Feeling iffy with this chapter, but it needed to be done. I promise it'll get better from here. This was just one of the necessary plot developments to give our favorite characters a little conflict. They're not going to fall deeply in love right away but they'll get there soon enough. Sorry about the shortness of this chapter. Had some time off of cheer and finished writing six pages in my spare time. I just wanted to get something out to you guys before my busy, busy weekend. Should be more next week! Keep in touch.

Courtney xx


	9. The Liar

The Taming

**Author's Note: **Thanks to all those who reviewed. Here's the ninth installment to The Taming. Hope a few things can be answered here (:

**Chapter Nine:** _The Liar_

It is now a little after breakfast. Emiline went with Samuel to explore the villages and have a little time alone. According to her father, yesterday was the first official day that they had begun to court each other. Angelina came back to breakfast to help serve, but she was sullen and down most of the time. It was unlike her, they said. But only I knew the real reason.

I kept quiet about her little secret. Angelina has enough to deal with and she does not need the maids to start acting petty towards her. She told me Embry will not see her anymore. She loved him very deeply at one point, but the hatred towards him is slowly overtaking the love that once stood there.

Jacob, from the breakfast table, had been giving me the same strange looks that Alice had hated the day before. But this time they were more intense, like he was trying to beckon me over to him with eye contact and body language. His spell could never work on me. I push away any fluttery feeling in my stomach that I get when he smiles or gives me a wink.

Lady Portia sat properly at the table, nagging Emiline and the other noblewomen about the customs here. Whenever she'd look at Jacob, she'd get a flustered look on her face and turn her head to the side, biting her lip and blushing. And I'd glare because I knew her dirty little secret.

I'd recalled upon the incident and confided privately to Alice, and she had told me with a little giggle that she was always right when it came to those sorts of things. I'd noticed a funny thing while at breakfast. Jacob would barely acknowledge Portia. He wouldn't treat her the same way as when compared to the day when she first arrived.

He'd bent and kissed her hand. He put on his welcoming smile and defended her. Now he gave her a bored look when she called his name, and walked away, pretending not to hear that she'd called. And I'd remembered what Emiline had told me about him not wanting to be married.

It sparks a little flame inside my mind, wondering if he was jaded with her already. Alice also had commented how she wouldn't be surprised if he was done with her too, because she gave her body to him on the first night that they were ever together. Emiline had spoken of "the chase" and for Jacob, the chase was over with Portia.

And now, I sit in the gardens at ten o' clock in the afternoon by the little creek that runs past the wooden gazebos. I've kicked off my stockings and lace up boots and sat with my feet in the cool water that tricked through the dirt. I hear footfall coming towards me, but I don't look up. I don't need to.

He sits down next to me, staring straight out at the rows and rows of perfectly planted flowers swaying in the cool summer breeze. My hair is thrown up in a messy braid, wisps of hair bowing around my face. The sun is hot that day; it beats down on the both of us and makes our eyes permanently squinty.

"I have not spoken to you for some time," he finally speaks up, his deep bass cutting the silence between us. I try to tune him out with the sounds of nature. There's the sound of the birds chirping, the rustling of the leaves as the wind blows through them, the trickle of the water as it runs over my bare toes.

He turns his head to look at me. I feel his eyes analyzing me as I stare out into the distance. For the first time, I think I've rendered him speechless. He gulps, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Isabella…" comes his husky whisper. "I'm sorry."

I still refuse to look at him. I blink my eyes out into the sunlight and feel the warm rays kissing my face. "For what?" I ask him softly. He gives a little sigh; my tone must tell him that everything between us is okay.

It's not.

He licks his lips, wrapping his muscular arms around his legs. "It was wrong," he says. "How I treated you."

This time I look at him. The sunlight almost blinds me, but I keep my eyes locked on his anyways. "You thought it was right at the time," I counter back at him. "You just left me there. I saw it in your eyes, Jacob. You believed me but you still defended her and made me clean up the mess. I was…_humiliated_."

"I couldn't have…" he trails off, shaking his head and looking out towards the meadow. I frown at this. It hurts me.

"What? You couldn't have defended a lowly maid, right? Even though I told the truth?" To this he doesn't respond. Again, I've rendered him speechless. I shake my head and smile even though there's nothing to smile about. "I know how it works. It's been that way my whole entire life."

He clenches his jaw together, gritting his teeth hard. He seems disappointed in himself, but it could just be an act. "Isabella, please…" he murmurs.

"Why does my forgiveness matter? I'm almost positive you've never cared a lick about anyone's feelings before." I laugh humorlessly because I know that it's true. And by the way he turns so red in the face, I can tell that he knows it too.

He bobs his head, sucking his lip into his mouth. He lets my words sink into his thick skin. "Because you are…you are…a _friend_."

"A friend," I repeat slowly, making sure that I heard him right. He nods head. I frown at him, narrowing my eyes. "I'm not your friend."

His face turns redder. "You…"

"I won't be pulled into your web of lies, Jacob. I'm not like the others!" I shout at him, my face turning red as well. I'm angry. I'm upset. And I've got a right to be.

"I know!" he raises his voice. "I know you're not!"

I quiet down a little. I shove my foot into the mud aggressively. He watches me do this with interest, his breathing slowing as he calms. "Then why…" I whisper. "…are you still here?"

He is quick to answer. "Because," he says. "Because you are different."

I lift my feet from the water. I grab my boots and stockings and push myself upon my feet. He watches me intently before copying me. "Where are you going?" he asks me, sounding a little annoyed that I got up and left.

"If I wanted you to come with me, I would have invited you." I snap at him, my face burning red beneath the sunlight. My feet pad against the grass, feeling the soft tiny buttercup flowers between my toes.

"Goddammit Bella…" he growls, trying to keep up with me. "Just talk with me! I deserve your voice, at least. Let me ex—"

I whirl around with fury in my eyes. "I don't owe you anything. You don't deserve my voice. You don't even deserve my presence! Gods, I can't even look at you right now." He ducks his head and looks forlornly down at the grass. "What you did…"

0o0o0o0o

**JACOB**

"What you did…"

I squint my eyes down at the grass as the memories of last night flood into my mind.

"_Shh," I cup a hand over Lady Portia's gaping mouth. I still my movements and my body completely. She looks at me with widened eyes, breathing softly. "I think I heard someone." I pull out of her body and slide off of the bed with ease. _

_Slowly, I make my way over to the door. It's cracked open. Goddammit…I'd told Portia to shut the door completely but she obviously didn't. With a shaky hand, I swing open the door and peer out into the blackened hallway. At the very end I can catch a glimpse of something. A little candlelight and a mane of beautiful waves of chestnut hair._

_I know it's Bella without even seeing her face. My stomach churns as I hang my head with disappointment. I close the door and lock it. I grit my teeth together, trying not to rip something apart. Portia sits up in bed._

"_Did someone see us?" she questions, her big blue eyes shining brightly with wonder. I shake my head. _

"_No," I say. "There was nothing but blackness out there."_

"_I think you're hearing things," she giggles, flopping her naked body back down onto the bed. I can't help but look upon her creamy white skin with disgust. Her small perky breasts, the apex of her thighs…the things that once enticed me to fuck her completely repulses me now. I turn away._

"_You should return to your room," I say to her, slipping on my trousers. She gasps and sits up in the bed. I don't look her in the eye. I throw my shirt over my head and tie the top together. I don't want to be naked for longer than I have to. Over the years I'd learn to accept that my scars were there, but I'd still never accepted the reason why they were there._

"_I don't understand. You didn't _finish_," Portia whines. Tears begin to well up in her eyes. "Didn't I please you? Oh, I tried…"_

_I inwardly groan. I can't be dealing with her right now. I've lost any interest I'd had in her before now that I know Bella's seen me with her. She already thought I was some horrible beast of a person and what she'd just witnessed had proved it a lot more._

_I almost feel disgusted with myself for betraying her like that, even though I have no reason to feel like I've done wrong. I don't owe her anything. Portia's crying in the background only agitates me more._

"_Oh Jacob," she sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't please you."_

_My hands twitch at my sides. I feel like I'm going to phase. I need to get out of here, and I need to get out now. "Wasn't you," I lie with a grumble. I think of something to say to her so that she'll stop her crying and leave me. "Wanted to…pleasure you only."_

_She sniffs a little, wiping at her eyes. "Oh."_

_I swing open the door and dart down the hallway. The beast within me is just itching to free itself._

0o0o0o0o

**BELLA**

I watch him as he stares with disappointment down at the grass. He squints his eyes shut and shakes his head. "You know what? You're right. I don't deserve anything that has to do with you." Jacob mumbles. He seems angry with himself. "I…apologize for any pain that I might have caused you."

My dress blows in the wind that sweeps through the garden. The summer morning is hot and tiresome already. He seems genuine with his apology. The gentle breeze runs its fingers through my hair and I close my eyes to fully embrace it. "You should go." I whisper. "You're probably wanted somewhere."

"Nowhere," he responds quickly.

"Portia will be worried," I say, beginning to walk away. "Don't leave her too long. You eventually have to choose a wife, you know."

"And she's not the one."

I frown at him. "How many times have you said that?"

"Plenty," he confirms, with a smile. It's the type of smile that melts my heart in an instant. This isn't good. I'm not supposed to be feeling like this for him. I should despise him after what Angelina told me, and what I saw with my own eyes.

I shake my head. "Leave me be, Jacob." I tell him. Those four words are painful to say but they have to be said. I have to look out for my best interest. This relationship between us is unhealthy to say the least.

He shakes his head slowly before carefully enunciating the word, "No."

"You must," I hiss at him.

"I can't."

"You can, and you will." I respond. My face reddens and I turn away from him, speeding down the grass to reenter the castle. I don't want anything to do with him. _Right_?

He pursues me on fast foot. "But I won't," he retorts back at me. "You want me as much as I want you."

"No," I growl at him. "No! I don't want you!" My face grows redder, if even possible.

He stands there and looks me dead in the eye. "You are a liar, Isabella Swan." Jacob whispers with another smile. _Damn him. _He grins even wider because he knows that he's right. I do want him. And any female in the kingdom would want him, too. But I can't go through with it. I won't be thrown away. I refuse to be trash again, and again, and again.

This time when I turn away, he doesn't follow me. He lets me go.

0o0o0o0o

Emiline stares at me with interest. "You've not said a word for nearly an hour," she points out. "What's gotten into you?"

I sigh and rub my eyes with my fingers. "Tired, I suppose." It's a lie. I know the exact reason why I've been mute for said hour. It starts with a J and ends with a B.

"Hmm." Emiline seems to know that I am lying. We stand on her balcony with our fingers curled around the railing made of cold marble. It is a beautiful day in Canavar and it is one well spent with nature. "You know, he's told me that he does not like her."

I turn my head towards her. "Whom do you speak of?"

She snickers at me. "Jacob," she replies. "Don't try to be clueless, Bella. I see right through it."

My face turns red as I look over the edge of the balcony. "Emiline, I—"

She cuts me off. "We were speaking yesterday. He told me that she already gave her body to him. But you already knew that, didn't you Bella?" I don't respond. She sighs. "He's horrible, I know. Everyone knows that. But he's had a rough childhood. He hates talking about it."

I don't know whether or not Emiline wants me to question further about Jacob's past. I lean against the balcony and stare at her with interest. "Alright." It's all I say because I've nothing else to say.

She smiles at me. "I'll tell you. Father is a hard man. Believe it or not, Jacob was a sweet child. I remember it, even. He'd play with me and kiss my cheeks and call me his 'sweet sister.' He'd laugh and he'd smile…_all the time_. But that was all before mother died. When she…_passed_, he took it pretty hard. And father hated that Jacob was full of such emotion. Father thought he was weak. And that's when it started."

My eyes widen. "When what started?"

"The lessons. Father taught Jacob how to fight. But he didn't want to learn how to fight. And when he refused father, he'd get a whipping. He'd come back crying, blood streaming down the deep gashes in his back. And father would tell everyone to laugh at him when he cried, not to feel pity. He wanted to make him a king, not a weakling." Emiline sighs. "I was the only one that didn't listen. I'd clean his wounds for him and tell him that it would be okay. And that was only the beginning. I began to lose him with each 'lesson' that father gave him."

The story upsets me to the point where I can feel tears at the corners of my eyes. I look away from her.

She continues the story. "He was whipped almost daily. Trained to the point where he'd be on the verge of passing out. And sometimes he would pass out. That would really tick father off. Father taught him how to phase, how to hunt, how to kill…father taught Jacob everything he knows."

I shake my head and look down at my feet. "Emiline…why are you telling me this?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "Because I thought you were the most worthy of hearing it. Everyone's portrayed him exactly how father wanted him to be portrayed—like a monster. A beast. He'd probably kill me if he ever found out that I told you…because he'd learned to respect father for his teachings. What else could he do? He was afraid. Father made him kill. Father made him fight with older boys that were much stronger than him. Sometimes he got hurt pretty badly, but father didn't care." Emiline licks her dry lips and sits down on a seat she'd brought out from her room. "He doesn't hate his scars anymore. Over the years he accepted everything wholeheartedly. But if you've ever seen him unclothed…you wouldn't be able to count them."

I still don't look at her.

"Bella," she whispers. "Trust me, I understand. Everything people have told you…it's most likely true. He's killed men. He's bedded many. But no one knows the true Jacob. And when I've observed you two together, I can see _him_ again. I haven't seen the real Jacob in ages." A tear trickles down the scarred ridges in her cheek. "You don't know how much you've missed someone unless they've been gone for a really long time."

I exhale deeply. What Emiline's just told me completely makes me rethink Jacob. He's still messed up, and he's far from perfect. But I guess I didn't ever notice the fact that he was different around me. He'd actually apologized.

And that meant _something_, even if it was just a few words.

0o0o0o0o

He's eating lunch with Portia under the protection of the gazebo's roof. Some servant boys carry out the food to them both. Portia hasn't stopped staring at him for five minutes straight. They can't see me; I'm gardening with Alice virtually out of view. And even if they bothered to look, which they wouldn't, we'd be unrecognizable with our bandanas on our heads and dirt on our hands and faces. The day turned from nice to extremely hot as the afternoon hours ticked on by.

"Can I have the potato seeds?" I ask her. Alice grabs the little pack and hands them to me. I dig a few holes into the ground, making sure to space them out perfectly, before plopping the potato seeds into them.

Alice sighs. "I feel like I'm going to faint in this heat," she complains to me. "I don't know whose brilliant idea it was to garden in this sort of weather."

I shrug my shoulders. "It needs to be done," I tell her. I've been gardening like this for plenty of years when I still lived with Constance. She didn't care about the weather. Her motto was that if it needed to be done, it would be done—whatever the circumstances.

She digs her hands down into the dirt, muttering a few choice words. "Do you see them, Bella?" she raises the question up into the air, swerving her head around the shrubs that covered her line of view of the prince and the lady from Belgras.

"Yes," I whisper. "I can see them."

"And?" Alice pops up onto her knees. "What are they doing?"

I look up from planting the potato seeds. "Just talking," I reply.

"That's all?" Alice frowns.

"That's all." I agree. "If we're quiet, we might be able to hear their conversations."

Alice and I both silence ourselves and perk up our ears. "Will you be coming to my chambers tonight, Prince Jacob?" Portia says in a seductive voice. This catches Jacob off guard. He chokes on his food and tries to regain his composure. My heart speeds up greatly. I wonder what he'll say.

"Portia…" he begins. "I am training tomorrow. I told you that. An early start means an early night."

"Now that's a lie," Alice giggles to me. "The chase is over for Jacob so he doesn't want Portia anymore."

The blonde girl frowns. "But surely you can make it in…and then return to your chambers?" When he doesn't respond to her, she frowns again, tears pooling in her eyes. "I knew you were lying last night, Jacob Black. If you don't want me, then I should just leave her right now!"

"Portia," he growls. "Stop jumping to conclusions! I…I want you."

"Liar," Alice whispers to me. "He never truly wants any of 'em."

He doesn't want to bed Portia tonight. Alice and I both know that if Jacob wanted something bad enough, he'd find a way to get it. It almost makes me feel better, knowing that he doesn't want to go through with it anymore. That apology is being proved true. Except he doesn't even know that I am listening.

Portia whispers something to him that Alice and I can't hear. And she grabs his hand and pulls him off, leaving the food untouched. I look back down to the seeds. Alice is laughing. "What a tart," she says to me.

I'm not upset. He isn't mine. He isn't mine. He isn't _mine_.

I go back to my work, planting potato seeds, picking weeds, and watering flowers under the blistering heat of the fireball in the sky.

0o0o0o0o

Hours and hours have passed. Most were spent in the garden, and the others were spent at lunch and dinner. A break has been my reward, gifted from Emiline. She told me I should go outside. Feel the fresh, cool air of the dying summer day. Smell the lilacs and river water on the breeze, and watch the colors bleed into the sky as the sun sets.

I wear my brown work dress that I'd cropped up to meet my knee, and the top to cover my shoulders only instead of my whole arm. I wear my white bandana over my braid, which was once nicely twisted together but now it remained messy from the day's work. I'd shed my stockings and brown lace up boots for the simple barefoot look.

I pad outside into the gardens just a little before the sunset happened. And that's when I see him. He's alone, sitting under a sycamore tree with a half-eaten apple in his hand. He turns the fruit and bites into it, one knee drawn up to his chest with the other lying flat on the grass.

_So this is why Emiline suggested I go outside._

He's watching the sunset too.

I head out a little further in the gardens, moving past the nearest gazebo, trailing my fingertips across the soft flowers that lay planted there. He's sitting there, just gazing out ahead of him so peacefully.

Should I join him? I want to. But I shouldn't. No, I really shouldn't.

I feel a burst of something inside of me and suddenly my fear, my hatred is gone. A little adrenaline rush and my feet are moving, bringing me towards him, towards the sycamore tree.

I cut through the flowers, careful not to step on any of the delicate roots and sneak up behind the tall tree. My heart is pounding. I don't think I should do this. I look behind me. No one's there, no one's watching me. It's just me and him, all alone, in the circle of nature around us.

I sit down next to him before my mind can even register what exactly I'm doing. He looks over at me in agitation before he realizes who I am. His mouth opens a little before he snaps it shut and chews the fruit in his mouth. The sunset has begun to start, the colors bleeding out into the sky like a great watercolor painting being constructed before our eyes.

I can feel his eyes on me; he's not looked away from me since I've came. "Stop gawking at me. You'll miss the sunset." I say to him.

That's when he turns away and watches as the fiery blaze sinks below the mountain, pulling all the light with its magnificent presence. The sky darkens and the heat seems to sweep away with the sun as the soft chill of the night sets in.

He bites into his apple. "You like watching the sunset?" he asks me.

I shrug my shoulders. "I suppose that I do sometimes."

"S'beautiful, the way the colors spread out." He comments in his husky voice. The sky turns a greenish blue as the sun fades and the stars begin to faintly shimmer in the sky. I don't respond right away, so he looks away from me and bites into his apple.

"I've been thinking," I whisper. "About your offer…of friendship, that is."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a shiny red apple and hands it to me. "A token, then." I look at him with interest. He nods his head at me, urging me to take the fruit. I accept the apple and bring it to my lips, biting through the soft flesh.

I feel like it's somewhat symbolic, accepting his offer of friendship as I eat his offered apple. I swear that it's the juiciest apple I've ever eaten in my entire life. He's tempting me with fruit to take a bite out him, guaranteeing me that it would be the best choice I'd ever made. And with the way his eyes sparkle, I can tell that my theory is right.

"So what changed your mind?" his deep bass cuts through the silence like a knife. "You were awful heated this morning…and rightfully so."

I watch him as he throws his apple core to the side and it goes tumbling down the hill. And as he extends his arm, I can see the little scars peppering his skin. I gulp down a bite of apple. "Things," I whisper.

He turns to me, his black hair blowing softly around his face. He pulls a little lopsided smile, making my heart flutter uncontrollably. "What kinds of things?"

"Not that important," I say back to him, shaking my head. I take another bite of the apple. My hair falls out of my messy braid some more. I can see him looking at me like I'm some sort of foreign beauty, something he wants to ravage, devour, conquer…

I clear my throat. "Stop looking at me like that," I scold him, beginning to feel uncomfortable under his heated gaze.

"Looking at you how?" he questions softly, cocking his head to the side.

"Like you want to…oh, I don't even need to explain. You know what you're doing." I hiss at him. "You know, I'll leave if this is how you're going to be."

"No," he blurts quickly. "Stay. Experience the beauty of the night with me, Bella." His warm hand folds over mine quickly. I try to pull my hand out of his but he only grips my fingers tighter.

_It's not doing any harm, _one part of me decides. The other says, _Get away from him. It's sending him the wrong message._

It's not doing any harm…letting him hold my hand. I'd let a friend hold my hand. Right?

He moves his large body a little closer to mine. "I want to show you something. If you'll let me, that is."

I shrug my shoulders. "Well that depends on what it is."

"Luminescence," he replies. "It's one of the great secrets of Canavar. And it's not too far away from here. We could get there by horseback in a little under ten minutes."

"Wait," I say, shaking my head. "I can't. Emiline will worry and…and what about Portia? If she finds out that I am with you, she won't marry you."

"I don't care," he says, leaning his head against the tree's bark.

"Priorities, Jacob," I say to him, shaking my head in disbelief at his carefree attitude. "You'll be king someday. You need Portia and her kingdom's riches and alliance—"

"I have all the time in the world to worry about a wife and the upcoming responsibilities. For tonight, just live. _With me_." Jacob says to me, standing on his feet. "Let me show you this, and make it up to you."

He extends his hand. I sit there on the ground and just stare at it for a few good seconds. He nods his head at me. "Trust me," he says.

My fingertips meet his hand and he tugs me up onto my feet. And as I look into his eyes, I realize that I do want him…in so many ways. I want to be the one to tame the beast, but at the same time I'm cautious, afraid.

I'm a liar.

And he's known it all along.

0o0o0o0o

Snow days are good days to sit down and write for a couple of hours. Hope you guys liked this chapter. I think Emiline's

helped clear some things up, and I'd love to hear what you thought about it. I tried to include more Jacob and Bella just like some of you asked for. I love writing their stories.

Courtney xx


	10. Luminescene

The Taming

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews!

**Inspiring Songs**: The Secret Wedding by James Horner, "Braveheart" Soundtrack and Red Warrior by Audiomachine (Red Warrior is freaking EPIC)

**Chapter Ten: **_Luminescence_

I can feel the steed shift beneath me as Jacob slides off of the saddle first. Then he opens his arms to me and I fall into him, letting his strong arms hoist me down. When my feet hit the ground, I brush off my dress and smooth out any wrinkles that his rough hands might have caused.

I lift my head, looking around at my surroundings with interest. Just where, exactly, did he take me?

It's dark in this forest, and the sky is falling darker with each passing moment. He ties his horse's reins to a low tree branch and then steps forward, motioning for me to follow him. This place is utterly secluded in a long forest with numerous trees and plant life. I duck under a leafy branch and use my right hand to push it out of the way of my eyes.

In the distance I can see a little blueish light, but I don't know if I'm just hallucinating because of the darkness. "Where are we?" I ask, breaking the silence. It's getting darker and I almost lose him when he turns a sharp corner.

He grabs my hand and leads me on, closer towards the light. And just as it was far away, it's near. As soon as we break through the clearing, my heart stops beating in my chest. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

There's a lake, a crystal clear freshwater lake illuminated by some sort of glowing blue light. Everything is glowing; everything from the fish that gleam purple and pink and the moss that shines green. I can't speak.

"Welcome to Luminescence," he says. He steps out in front of me and waves his hand out in front of him. "Canavar's best kept secret."

In the middle of the lake there's a little sand island just big enough to fit two people. I look around me, my eyes wide open with trying to absorb everything. "How many people know about this place?" I ask quietly.

"I do. Emiline does, too. I took her here when we were young. And then there's you," he says, turning his head halfway to glance at me through his peripherals. He gives a soft smile.

"Three people?" I whisper.

He nods his head. "It's beautiful, isn't it? My own little haven. I've kept it secret for long because I don't want to share anything like this." He places his hands on his hips and steps back, admiring the view. "I mean, look at it Bella. Would you?"

I shake my head. "Oh, no. Never."

I bend down and touch my fingertips to the water. It's so warm and clear and glowing. I'm enchanted. I pull my finger from the water, watching as it comes back glowing as well. I look up at Jacob, who takes pride in my amusement.

"Magic?" I ask.

He shrugs his massive shoulders. "Could be." Then he bends down next to me and sticks his own hand in the water, watching as the fish near him frantically swim away. "This water's warm year 'round. It looks like a normal old lake during the day but once night hits…everything's different, as you can see. I don't know what makes it so warm, or what makes it glow. It's all a mystery to me, but a beautiful one at that."

I bite my lip and pull my own hand out of the water, sitting back on the bank. When I look to Jacob, I can see that he's not there anymore—only his tunic's left in his wake. A splash to my far left attracts my attention.

A holler and he emerges from the water, shaking his head like a wet dog. And he flashes a pearly white grin my way, dazzling me completely. He dips back under the water and makes his way around the little sand island with grace until he reaches me.

He slowly brings himself up out of the water like a giant, 6'8 beast, his black hair hanging around his eyes. He smirks at me. My eyes widen a little more. A splash knocks me out of my paralyzed, dazzled trance. I frown at him. "What are you doing?" I ask him.

He pushes his sopping wet hair out of his eyes and pushes himself backwards into the water. "What does it look like?" he asks me, laying back in the water into a floating position. "I'm swimming."

I scowl at him and he laughs a little. "Don't be daft," I growl at him. "You know what I meant."

He stands up, the water reaching around his hips. I nearly begin to drool. I've never seen someone with a body as nice as his before. His pecks look like they are made of steel and his torso is so completely shredded with taut muscle that it's hard to count the abs running along the contoured 'V' into his pants.

His bicep muscles alone look like they could crush a skull like one would crush a pea with their fingertips. He's got a beautiful tribal tattoo on his right bicep, and it draws my eyes away from the obvious scars on the backs of his arms and chest.

"Would you care to join me?" he asks seriously.

I look up from where I'm sitting. "What?"

The shocked look on my face makes him frown and he looks down at the water, red in the face. "I wouldn't touch you or anything."

I tip my head back towards the stars and lean back against the bank.

He growls at this. "Isabella, look at me. In the eyes." I obey. "Now I'm a lot of things, which I'm sure you already know. I kill. I fuck. I take what I want. They're not good qualities to have at all, but I'll tell you one thing. I'm a man of my word. And if you can find it in your heart to trust anything that has to do with me, trust that I'll keep my word."

I look away from him, licking my dry lips and furrowing my brows. He sighs and bows his head a little, nodding as if he understands my decision and dives back beneath the water. He's not looking at me. I unlace the back of my dress slowly, my heart pounding in my chest.

Do I want to go through with this?

I slide my dress down my shoulders and over the soft swell of my hips until the only clothes I'm left with are my small clothes; a white cotton long sleeved and flowing cotton pantaloons. I take off my white bandana and undo my braid, letting my soft waves of chestnut hair fall around my shoulders. Slowly, I slink into the water quietly and hide behind the sand island. Jacob comes back up to where I was previously sitting, obviously puzzled.

He sees my dress there and shakes his head, turning around and looking for me in the water. I slink a little further behind the sand island with a devilish grin plastered onto my face. "Isabella," he whispers. And then he turns around towards the forest. "Isabella!"

He looks worried out of his wits. I emerge from behind the sand island and sneak up behind him. All across his massive body are long, deep fleshy scars. I can't help myself as a gasp emits from my throat at the horror I'm witnessing.

He jumps around, the whites of his eyes turning yellow and his pupils taking up the space of his irises. I take a step back in the water, a little frightened. Then he lets out a breathy laugh and breaks into a smile. "You little minx," he says, lunging towards me.

I dive out of the way, sending a wave of crystal clear water right towards him. The water slaps him in the face and brings his hair back down over his eyes. It's so comical that I do the unthinkable; I begin to laugh at him.

His mouth is slightly agape, surprised that I'd had enough guts to do something like that to him. And soon enough, he too, is laughing with me. He pushes his hair out of his eyes with a big grin on his face. "What was that for?" he asks me.

"You promised you wouldn't touch me," I say challengingly, raising an eyebrow.

"And I wasn't going to—"

I send another wave towards him. This one hits him square in the chest. He thinks it's funny. I dive under the water and he follows me. Surprisingly, the lake is pretty long. It's amazing what I can see underneath the waves. Brightly colored fish swim alongside of me and the moss grows bright green against the water.

I turn around, not needing to come up for air just yet. He's sitting at the bottom of the lake, cross legged style and staring straight back at me. Suddenly his eyes widen. Out of the corner of my eye I can catch a glimpse of gold swirling around me. When I turn my head, I realize it's my own _hair_.

I come up for air, throwing my hair back out of my eyes and tipping my chin towards the sky. He does the same. Breathlessly, I stare at my own hair, seeing if it will glow the same gold color again. But alas, it doesn't. It's still the same muddy brown.

"Is that…_normal_?" I ask.

He shakes his head in disbelief and lets out a little sigh. "Never seen it happen before," he admits. I dip back under the water again.

My hair gleams golden under the water. I emerge with an amazed look on my face. "I told you it was magic!" I look around the whole glowing little heaven. "This whole place is magic!"

I don't think I've ever been so captivated by one single thing in my entire life. It almost makes me forget my cares, and that I have duties back at the castle. It makes me forget that I should be mad at Prince Jacob and I should hate his guts.

But I don't. I don't despise him, and especially not right now. He ties back his hair with a piece of leather and dips back under the water to pick a small pink flower that grows at the bottom of the beautiful lake.

Then he presents it to me. "They call it the moon flower," he tells me, holding out the beautiful glowing flower. "Its shape resembles a crescent but when revealed to the air for a certain amount of time, it begins to open up a little."

Slowly, the petals of the moon flower begin to open and show its face to the night. "Oh, it's beautiful." I whisper, my fingers covering my mouth as I stare at the most beautiful plant I'd ever seen.

He offers the flower. "May I?" he asks, pointing at my ear. I gulp. _It won't do any harm to let him put a flower in my hair._ I nod my head at him. He steps forwards until he's only a few inches away from me. I'm face to face with his incredible rows of steel abs as he bends down a little. He cups my chin and gently urges my face up towards his.

I'm staring right up at him as he focuses on securing the moon flower behind my ear. Then he tucks my wet trees back to secure the flower a little. "There we go," he murmurs, stepping back to admire his work.

Suddenly I realize that sexual tension has magically appeared between us and it grows and grows with each passing moment that we stand here before each other. He sees it and I can see it. He's older than I am, about four years. He's seen 20 summers and I've seen only 16. His pupils dilate and he shifts his weight on his feet.

I turn away, uncomfortable with the way I'm feeling. He gives me a reassuring smile and a slight nod. "Want to swim to the sand island?" he asks me. I nod my head.

He dives under the water, his huge body gliding gracefully through the warm water. It only takes him a few strokes to get to the island. I swim after him, my hair glowing brightly in the water. Even the moon flower glows.

He climbs up onto the island and sits down against one of the curved, leafy trees. "Look at you," he laughs.

I look down at myself, puzzled. "What is it?" I ask.

"You look like you are a part of this lake," he says, nodding at my glowing hair. "Like you are made to be here."

"Perhaps I am," I shrug. He offers a hand and I take it. He hoists me up onto the sand island and I sit next to him, my back leaning against the strange tree. It's one of the darkest hours of the night and the stars all gleam brilliantly. And there's the silver moon, riding high as a shimmering sphere in the sky.

He points to the stars. "Look there, Bella," he says, pointing to a particularly bright star. "That's the star Hamal. And those three stars all connect to form the Aries constellation. You know Aries, right? It's the ram."

Then he points to Cepheus the King, and the Queen Cassiopeia, and the Taurus constellation. I look at him in shock. "I didn't know you knew the stars," I whisper to him.

"Sometimes I can't sleep," he murmurs back to me. "So what I'd do when those sleepless nights came round…I'd sit out here and study the sky. Look at everything and analyze like it was some sort of deep secret. I was determined to find out that secret."

I look over at him. "And did you?" I question.

"I don't think I'll ever figure it out fully. But I managed to learn some from the scrolls in the library." Jacob says to me. He turns his head and plants his eyes on me. "You like the stars, Bella?"

I shrug my shoulders and nod. He laughs at my odd gesture and I crinkle my nose at him. "Sure I do," I say. "When I lived back in Bravos, I used to sit at my window every night and stare at the stars. Granted I didn't know as much as you do—like the names of the stars. Homol, right?"

"Hamal," he corrects me with a chuckle.

"Hamal," I repeat. "Anyways, I only knew one star at the time. The North Star. When I was little, I used to think it was my mother up there, staring down at me. I used to sit at my windowsill with my knees on the floor and my hands clasped together and I'd pray and pray to that star."

There's a silence. The sounds of crickets and owls echo in our ears. The lake is still brilliant and beautiful. "Do you still pray to her?" he asks softly.

I shake my head slowly. "Not as much anymore," I admit quietly. "It's been so long ago that I lost her…I barely remember what she looks like nowadays."

He sighs and shifts a little, turning his body towards me and staring me right in the eyes. "You know," he begins gently. "I lost my mother too. When I was young, like you."

"And you miss her?"

"Always," he replies. "Never a day goes by when I don't long for some sort of recollection of her. I was so young when she passed."

I'm beginning to see it—the compassion hidden within the dying embers of the _real _Jacob that Emiline had spoken so passionately about. She was sure that he was still there and now, it's slowly being proved.

I look back out towards the stars before opting to slide back into the warm, crystal waters. He watches me from the sand island as I float on my back, letting the nature around me envelope me in its beauty. "I don't think I've ever been so content," I admit.

"Have I earned your forgiveness?" I can hear him ask from the island.

I don't answer him right away. I float on my back and let the water lick at the sides of my face, letting my hair gleam gold in the water. Impatient, he slides off of the sand island and swims towards me. His big body in the water causes waves throughout the lake, rocking my body like a boat in a stormy sea. He swims until he's hovering right over me. The starry sky in my view becomes blocked with his inhumanly handsome face.

He studies my stoic features for a few moments, his eyes darting back and forth over my face. Then he gives a sad, pathetic sort of smile and shakes his head. "I suppose it's a no then," he chuckles softly, lacking any trace of humor in his tone. "I do not blame you. Ni bezalako norbait ez du zu bezalako norbait merezi."

I don't know what he's said to me, but it doesn't matter. My hand slithers through the water and catches his wrist before he trudges away through the water. He turns his head back, looking at me with his black eyes. I nod my head once.

He comes back to me with a distressed look on his face. "I _am _sorry. I should have defended you against Portia. I was awful to you and it was uncalled for." I stand and look at him.

"Friends," I whisper.

"What?" he asks me, not hearing quite right.

"Friends." I repeat it a little louder so that he might hear it clearly this time.

He gives a half smile, one that shows his acceptance. "Friends, of course." He offers his hand out and I stare at it blankly for a moment. "Friends, Bella." He reassures me. My hand twitches in the water. Finally I reach out and grasp his hand, letting him pull me near.

I look up at the night sky. "Jacob, I love it here." I tell him with all honesty. When he'd spoken of this glorious place on the ride here, I'd not believed him to this extent. I had no idea that it would be this beautiful.

He nods his head, giving a quick smile. "I'm glad that you..." he trails off, lifting his head towards the sky. I frown and squeeze his hand once, snapping him out of whatever strange trance he was in. "That...that you..." His head snaps to the side, his pupils dilating to the size of brown irises, the whites of his eyes becoming yellow all over again.

I pull my hand out of his and step back in the water. I'm frightened. "What's going on?" I ask him.

He dives towards the bank of the lake, hoisting himself up and out of the water. "No, no, no," he's mumbling quietly. "Not now. Not here."

I quickly swim after him, eager to get out of the water. "Jacob," I call after him. He paces back and forth, smelling the air and then covering his head with his hands. "Jacob, please answer me."

He lets out a cry of pain and hunches over a little, the bones in his back rippling. I can see all of the scars in the moonlight; it's a horrific sight to see. I back up a little as his body begins to vibrate. "Oh Gods," he groans. I shriek when his huge body begins to shake violently, like a volcano about to erupt. "Bella, I n-need you to s-stay calm. I'm s-shifting."

My heartbeat speeds up as I watch him. Out of the corner of my eye I see something black race through the woods at the speed of lightning. I feel my knees getting weak. I know. I know what this is. "No," I whisper.

An enormous roar echoes through the forest—the alarm, the warning signal. And when I look back at Jacob, I find a massive russet brown wolf standing in his place. He races towards me, lowering himself so that I can mount him. I feel faint. I feel sick.

I slide onto his back and grab fistfuls of the fur on Jacob's neck to steady. The beast below me opens its huge jaw filled with razor sharp dagger teeth and races forth into the dark forest.

I hold on for my life as he races faster than the speed of light between the trees. The black blurs in my peripherals have become even more real now that we're swerving through the trees. He lets out another howl and pushes faster into the forest.

I close my eyes, trying to blot out the faces of the immortals. One comes rushing towards us both, a look of death in its bright red eyes. Pale skin, blood running along the corners of its mouth all the way to its ears, looking like a rabid Chelsea grin.

I scream as the immortal nears Jacob's back leg, reaching its hand out for it and opening its mouth. Suddenly, a huge, massive ball of sandy yellow fur rushes out and snaps the immortal out of the way. I look back when I hear a blood curdling scream as the giant yellow wolf tears the head off of the immortal.

The other black blots become less of a background image and more of a foreground image. They lunge at Jacob, but he only pedals himself faster through the forest. Other giant wolves run past him, the force of their coming blowing gut. There's black and grey and white and reddish ones, all snarling and racing past Jacob.

One by one, they begin to take down the immortals that pursue us.

When we finally break through the forest's edge, the tears of relief begin to stream down my face. I can see the castle, and the lights and the men shuffling out of it with swords in their hands.

Before I know it, we're at the back entrance of the castle. He skids to a stop and allows me to get off of him before he shifts back to his human skin. I look away as soon as I realize that he'd lost his pants in the process.

"Here, here! I have them!" comes a distant voice. One of the men coming out of the castle hands Jacob an extra pair of trousers before issuing to the other line of warriors.

He slips them on, and pulls me into the castle. All of the maids and servants are awake. The royals and nobles are awake. I feel such horrid shame when I look down at my drenched being, clad in only my _underclothes _and Jacob, shirtless except for a pair of old trousers.

Before the royals and nobles can see us, he pulls me off towards a hidden stairwell. The stairwell comes directly to the hallway that my room is stationed in. He leads me to my room and opens the door for me, shutting it beside me.

My chest is still heaving from the immense fear I'd just felt. I shake my head in disbelief. My lips tremble with each breath I take. "What...what was that?"

He looks me dead in the eyes. "They're back," he says, beginning to pace the length of the room. He puts his hands on his head and tugs at his roots. "I...I don't know how. We ran them off, we killed so many of them, but they're relentless creatures."

I collapse against my bed, clutching my fluttering heart and trying to calm myself down, trying to reassure myself that I'd be okay now that I was back. "Im...Immortals," I whisper.

He nods his head, biting his lip. Shaking his head, he looks away and furrows his eyebrows, frowning down at the ground. "Fuck. I'm a fool for taking you there," he growls at himself. "I'm sorry, Bella."

I shake my head. "No, don't—"

He ignores me as he rushes past me to the windows. In the distance there's a bright light, a fire, and the smell of smoke on the wind. "I was lucky that I smelled the scent when I did. And there was more than one, too. Usually they roam alone. A small clan...I'm lucky I outran a clan of them. Lucky the rest of the pack arrived soon enough."

I sit down on the bed, staring at the scar on my wrist. "I suppose immortals aren't common here," I say.

He shakes his head and sighs. "Once they were common. They were crawling through these forests like spiders. But with more immortals came more shapeshifters, and over the years we were able to ward them off. Killed everyone single one of them, or so we thought."

"What are you going to do?" I ask him.

"The pack's taking care of it all," he whispers to me, turning around slowly, eyeing my drenched form with his deep black eyes. "You shouldn't worry. You're safe now."

I nod my head, looking up at him through my thick black lashes. "Yes. Thanks to you."

If we didn't realize it at first, we realize it now. He's shirtless and has the physique of a god. I'm clad in only my underclothes and I'm soaking wet. The underclothes are white, and he can most likely see every outline of my skin against the pale moonlight filtering through my window. The sexual tension in the room is so thick that not even a sword could cut it.

He smiles weakly, nodding his head at me once. "You most likely don't want to hear this from me, but..." He chuckles at his own comment and runs a hand over the stubble on his chin. "I'd do almost anything for you."

My face turns bright red when those intense brown eyes lay upon me again. I rub my arms, subconsciously covering my overly exposed chest. I bob my head up and down, letting my eyes roam over the muscular planes of his chest.

Outside of my room, I can hear voices shouting from below. He turns his head towards the door and sighs. I clear my throat. "You should go," I tell him. "They need you, most likely."

He hesitates for a moment. "But you...are you all right?"

I go to my wardrobe, rummaging around for a nightdress to replace my soaking wet underclothes. "I am fine now," I tell him. "No worries."

He nods again. "Yes." He goes to the door but stalls his hand on the golden knob. "Sleep well, Isabella."

I smile at him. "I will." _Thanks to you._

0o0o0o0o

**Basque Dictionary**

**Ni bezalako norbait****ez du****zu bezalako norbait****merezi****:** Someone like me doesn't deserve someone like you.

Guess who's back...back again! (Slim Shady reference lol) The Immortals are! Bella's nightmarish past has come back to the surface tonight. But before that, there was some great bonding action, I think. You guys got to know a little more of the 'real' Jacob and Bella got to have fun with him. Please review! They mean the world to me; thank you to those who review already :)

Courtney xx


	11. His Healer

The Taming

**Author's Note:** So slight changes of plans had me off of Microsoft Word (for some odd reason) so I'm on google docs. I tried to get this one out to you guys fairly quick. I loved the responses on the last chapter. You guys all rock!

**Chapter Eleven**: _His Healer_

In the morning when I wake, the sun is shining through the window brightly. After last night, I don't think I can ignore the fact that I could have almost died _again, _almost trapped within the icy death grip of an immortal. And I can't ignore the fact that Jacob, the prince that I'm supposed to despise, saved me from my ill-fate.

I slide out of bed, yawning loudly before going to my window and opening the glass outwards. The smell of fresh morning air bombards me and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Glimmering in the sun is the silvery scar on my wrist. I cover said scar with my hand and try to push away the memories of that fateful night.

I hear a knock at the door. I start for the door but then I realize that I'm not dressed properly to be answering the door. "Just a minute!" I call out, rushing to my wardrobe for a robe. I grab the wine colored cloth and drape it around my shoulders before twisting the knob of my door.

Emiline pushes her way inside of the room before shutting the door behind me. Her scarred face is masked with worry. "Did you hear? Did you hear about the immortals coming back?" She sits herself down in one of the nice white chairs and lets her long hair flow down the back. "It's all so overwhelming."

I nod my head. I not only heard about the immortals, but I was there when the discovery of the wretched beings came upon us all. "I heard," I agree anyways, unsure if I should tell her that I was with Jacob the night they came to Canavar-last night. "I also heard that it was uncommon to see them 'round here anymore."

Emiline sighs. "Quite uncommon," she agrees. "I don't want this again, Bella. Last time there were so many good men taken from us." She looks down at her feet. The hardships of the last war with the immortals seem to be something of great sadness to these people. Living in the small woodland kingdom of Bravos has made me somewhat clueless to the happenings of the kingdoms. The king of Bravos didn't ever concern himself with the hardships of the shapeshifting tribes.

"You think there will be horrible war again, Emiline?" I ask her, sitting down into the chair next to her. "After last night, that is."

Emiline nods her head. "I was very young when it all happened but I remember that my uncle, the previous prince, was killed. He was my most favorite uncle. He was a better father figure to me than my own father was. Killed, killed, killed. The immortals killed so many, caused so much agony. And then to top it all off, my mother caught sick and died." She sighs and bites her lip, remembering her mother most likely. "Father wanted Jacob to be prepared for something. I didn't realize what it was at the time, but now I know that it was for this. I think father knew that they'd come back."

The terrified look in her eyes is absolutely bone-rattling. "Oh Emiline, you needn't worry. The guards and the men demolished the immortals last night-"

She shakes her head. "I suppose no one told you, did they?"

My face falls instantly and my confidence has been thrown out the window and stomped on. "Told me what?" My voice quivers a little.

Emiline sighs. "Two of the young shifters died last night trying to fight them off. There's a funeral later today for them. And one of the kingsguard, Ateara, was bitten," she says. "Now a bite doesn't do much. It just jogs a shapeshifter's ability to heal a while. But on top of the bite, he broke his leg. And with no healing ability, he's not able to fight away the infection and the bone's not gonna heal."

My eyes widen instantly. Hearing about the death of two young shifters makes me saddened and suddenly the morning no longer seems as nice as it once did. "What will happen to Ateara?" I ask her frantically. "Will he die?"

Emiline shrugs her shoulders. "I do not...I do not know. We have the best healers for him right now, but there's no telling. Even Jacob...he has his own injuries to deal with."

My heart stops. Jacob has injuries? I try not to seem overly worried about him but after last night, when I'd recommended that he go out and rejoin his men, I'm afraid for his well-being. The thought arrives that if he were to go out there at my suggestion, my pushing, and die, I'd never forgive myself.

_Where did that come from?_

I sigh and shake my head. "Is...is he okay?" I ask quietly.

She nods her head. "Recovering," she whispers. "I visited his chambers this morning. His healing factor is the thing that keeps him going. He was hit pretty hard, square in the chest. Broke almost all of his ribs, but they're all mending. He just has pain."

I squirm in my seat. _All of his ribs?_ I grimace and frown. I want to see him and make sure that he's okay. Since we are friends now, that is. Emiline can see right through me. She notices my reaction and narrows her eyes a little bit, smiling slyly.

She folds her hand and puts her hand over her knee. Leaning forward, she whispers to me. "He was expecting a servant girl to go in there and clean his wounds. I was planning on going and getting one before I stopped to talk with you."

My face turns bright red. "Emiline, I-"

She sits back in her chair. "Don't bother, Bella. I, Princess Emiline of Canavar, has ordered that you go and clean my brother's wounds." My mouth falls open, but she ignores me completely. "In the room all the way down the hall there are supplies. In there you'll find your water bowl, your cloths, and your medical creams."

She nods at me, brushing her hands towards me. I get up from my seat, staring down at her with my mouth agape. She raises her eyebrows, telling me to move my feet and go. I don't even bother protesting because I know that it would be a hopeless case.

0o0o0o0o0o

I raise my fist to the tall wooden door, but stall it. My heart's about to pound of my chest and flop right onto the marble floors. I inhale and exhale a couple of times before bringing my fist down on the wood. My heartbeat speeds up.

Dwelling from behind the door, I can hear his husky bass break the silence. "Enter." His voice is ever-menacing but I know now that it's a facade. I turn the knob and push the door open. It's nerve-wracking knowing that I'm in his room, his personal chambers for the first time.

I look straight forward. His bed is absolutely huge, and it almost dwarfs him with the total surface area. Tall wooden posts and animal fur covers with black cotton sheets. Mounted heads of deer, wolves, bears, and even large wild cats are mounted around his room. A fire is roaring in the great stone fireplace next to the door. He's got a huge room, one of the largest I've ever seen.

He sits up a little in his bed once he notices that it's me. I close the door behind me and show my supplies. "I come bearing gifts," I say with a small smile. He grins back at me, shaking his head at my mild humor.

"So Emiline's sent you?" he questions. Then he adds, "Or have you volunteered?"

I give him a mock-glare. "Volunteer? Never." I carefully make my way up to the large wooden platform on which his bed is elevated upon. There's an empty table sitting next to his bedside so I place my items down there.

I take one look at him. He's sweaty, his hair hanging down against his face. His muscles are bulging as always, but blood stains them. He notices me staring at all of the dried blood and nods his head. "Leaked through," he explains. That's when I see the cuts that are slowly simmering shut all over his arms.

I stare at the cuts before remembering what I truly came to treat. "And what of your ribs?" I ask him. "Emiline told me of the injuries."

He lifts up his his thin, bloodstained tunic and throws it upon the floor next to his bed. His brilliantly sculpted torso looks black and blue in some areas, but I don't see much else that's wrong. I remember her telling me that it was a gruesome sight, too. I point a finger at his chest. "And it hurts, no?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "A dull roar only now," he replies softly. He runs a finger down his chest. "You ought to have visited me earlier, Bella. I had ribs protruding from my skin here and here, and blood covering my skin."

I cringe at the mental picture it gives me. I turn to the bowl of water with the sponge. I seize the yellow sponge and drain it of its water. Looking at him to gain permission, I gently lower the sponge down onto his skin. I dab at the dried blood, softly washing it away. He watches me as I clean his small cuts and wounds, cleansing his skin with the cool water.

I dab a little of alcohol onto a small towelette and press it to one of the cuts. He hisses softly and his arm jumps. "Sorry," I whisper to him. He shakes his head and gives a slight smile.

Right before my eyes, his skin begins to knit back together. "The healing factor?"

"_Bai_. The healing factor." He agrees.

I point to all of the small cuts on his arms. "If you obtain the gift of healing, why do the others not heal quickly?" I whisper softly.

"Ah," he breathes. "My body has focused on knitting my ribs back together. So the cuts, the minorities, are saved for later. My ribs are fine now; they are no longer crushed into hundreds of tiny bone shards inside of my body."

I take the sponge into my hands again and press it to his stomach, rubbing it in gentle circles to clean off the blood. The blood comes off fairly easy to my pleasure. "And are you sore?" I ask him, pressing the cool sponge lightly to a bruise on his torso. I lean onto his bed slightly with my knees, trying to tend to him easier.

"Sore?" he repeats, contemplating the question. "A little." As I lean over, my hair falls out of my braid and into my eyes. I blow up towards my nose and try to blow the hair out of my eyes, but have no luck. Suddenly, he reaches up his hand and his fingertips skirt up my cheek, brushing the tendrils of chestnut hair out of my eyes and tucking it behind my ear.

It's such a sensual gesture that my heart starts to pound in my chest and my face turns bright red. I didn't know that he could make me feel this way, even though I know that I shouldn't feel this way. I decide to ignore my feelings and ignore the gesture that provoked such emotion from me. I accidentally drop my sponge and it goes rolling over to the other side of Jacob.

In one rash movement, I decide to lean over him and grab it. I end up falling onto his lap like a fool. He sits up instantly, using his strong arms to lift me back up. "Gods, I'm so sorry," I mumble. I scramble off of the bed with the retrieved sponge. My face is redder than a ripe tomato and I'm so embarrassed.

"Bella," he whispers. I don't answer him, tossing the sponge back into the water and grabbing one of the bandage rolls. Yes, one of the healers had told me to wrap his torso to speed the healing process. "Bella. Are you okay?"

I turn around, not daring to look him into the eyes. "Oh, I'm fine. Can you sit up for me?" I ask him. He does what I ask and I wrap one layer of the cloth bandages around his torso.

He watches me as I wind it around his bruised torso, his eyes following my every move. I secure the bandages with a small knot at the end and step back to view my work. He twists his body, testing the bandages.

"They are good?" I ask.

He nods his head and gives me a smile. "Yes, fine. You are a natural healer," he says with a jest in his tone. "_My healer._" I blush a little.

I go back to my items on his bedside table and examine my things. I grab the last thing that I'd carried with me, the healing cream, and go back to him. He's laid back down on the middle of the bed, trying to get comfortable on the pillows.

I hesitate, trying to figure out a way to reach him easily without leaning over him and falling again like a fool. "Climb on," he tells me. "I won't bite you, I promise."

I chuckle softly at this, amused by his humorous state of mind. Carefully, I climb up onto the bed. I hadn't dare to venture this far before, but something inside of me was telling me that it was okay. I make my way into the middle of his vast bed with the wooden bowl of healing cream, inching forwards towards him hesitantly.

I reach out to touch him and flinch away before my fingers even scrape his skin. "You act like I'm some undesirable beast," he laughs. "Not even willing to touch me in the purest way."

I shake my head, flabbergasted. "Jacob, I-"

"Hush, girl," he murmurs, a smile playing on his lips. "I only jest."

I dip three fingers into the yellowish healing cream and go to work. I start with the cuts on his chest, smoothing the cream softly over the slowly closing wounds. "It must be quite nice to have a healing factor," I comment.

He nods his head. "Convenient," he replies.

I look at his face. His sweaty locks of hair are fanned out onto the pillow behind him and little beads of sweat form above his top lip and on the sides of his face. He swallows, his sunken cheeks constricting. It is much too hot in this room.

I see the cut on his face, centimeters away from the cleft in his chin. I swipe my finger along the side of the bowl and slowly lean forward, gently rubbing the cream onto the small cut. He breathes out, blowing my hair into disarray. He smells of mulled wine and mint leaves. I look up as I move my finger across the cut on his chin.

"Gods gainetik, zure edertasuna egingo luke ilargia aurpegia piztu kanpoan lotsa. Izarrak argia bekaitz litzateke zure begietan inoiz graced baduzu, zure ikusmena." Jacob murmurs softly.

My eyes meet his lustful, blazing ones. He tilts his chin upwards a little, readjusting his head on the pillow whilst moving closer to me. I don't move from where I sit; I feel like I've been rendered motionless by his gaze alone. "What do you say?" I ask him.

He chuckles softly and shakes his head a little. I know he's not going to tell me.

I remove my finger as I feel his heavy hand skirting up my side and sliding up my arm, dragging his warmth through my veins. He watches me intently, monitoring my reaction as he moves his hand over my shoulder. My mind is screaming no, but my body is screaming yes.

I find myself to be slowly leaning forwards into his touch until my lips linger only mere centimeters away from his. He shifts beneath me, stroking a hand across my shoulder. I know that if I were just some whore, he'd grab me and kiss me and claim me as his. But it's me and he's cautious for me.

I reach up to hold his face, intrigued by his gentleness and sincerity towards me. But as soon as my hand touches his skin, I yank myself away from him.

His skin is hot, just like a fire.

I cry out in pain, shaking my injured hand out and rolling off the bed to submerge it in the bowl of water that I'd brought with me.

He sits up, and a little too quickly at that since I hear his groan of pain. "Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?"

I turn around at him and eye him carefully. "Jacob, gods almighty. Your skin is like fire." Then I look around the room, beginning to sweat profusely the longer I'm there. There are candles on his tables, but the main source of the heat is the fireplace.

I do not even think. I take the water in the bowl and rush to the fire, extinguishing the flames immediately. I don't hear him object behind me. I stand there before the hearth, my shoulders heaving up and down with each heavy breath that I take. Then with shaky fingers, I place the bowl back onto the table.

My simmered fingers aren't the problem. The heat wasn't the problem. It's the fact that I almost kissed him...but the fact that I'd wanted him to kiss me is what drives me even crazier. I'd wanted to feel his lips on mine so badly.

I stare into the dying embers of the fire. "What about your woman?" I ask quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" he asks.

"What about your woman?" I repeat a little louder, turning my head to the side.

He leans forth in the bed. "Woman? I have no woman." I growl because I know it's a lie. He has Portia but he just wasn't to say it. "I don't care about anyone right now but you...just Bella, please. Tell me you're okay."

I slowly make my way back to him, my heart pounding in my chest. He grabs my arm when I'm close enough to examine my fingers when something catches his eye. I see him looking at my wrist. I yank my hand out of his immediately and go back to my table.

"It can't be…" he whispers.

I don't know what he's talking about and I'm not particularly interested in finding out. I pull my sleeve down over my wrist so that he won't be able to see my scar, although I'm sure that he's already seen it.

"Well, I believe that we should be done here." I say to him with a firm nod of my head.

"Bella, wait. Where did you get that-"

"Prince Jacob!"

The loud cry echoes through the room and both of our heads whip towards the door. I can hear little shoes clacking against the marble floors. I gulp and turn towards him. "I should take my leave now," I tell him. "Before she gets here."

His face reddens. "No, stay here-don't leave. Speak to me!"

The doorknob turns and I give him one apologetic look before rushing past Portia as she enters the room. She gifts me with a dirty look before rushing over to Jacob's bedside. I rush down the hallway. When I look back I can see her sprawled over top of him in her frilly white and blue dress, her arms locked around his neck. He lays there motionless as he stares with widened eyes back at me. His mouth hangs slightly agape.

I don't know what he thinks he knows or remembers. I shake my head, trying to push the flashbacks away before they came. I shake my head, pushing the timeless immortal out of my brain. The little brown wolf and other wolves, out of my brain.

0o0o0o0o

**Basque Dictionary**

**Gods gainetik, zure edertasuna egingo luke ilargia aurpegia piztu kanpoan lotsa. Izarrak argia bekaitz litzateke zure begietan inoiz graced baduzu, zure ikusmena. **_(Gods above, your beauty would make the face of the moon turn away in shame. The stars would envy the light in your eyes if ever you graced them with your sight.)  
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Yell at me all at you want for a short chapter, but I felt like this length was needed. I wanted to end it here, leaving a little suspense in the air. Have I thrown around some questions? Hopefully so. Please review-last time was lovely, reading all of your opinions. Thanks so much for the support, guys. More soon!

Courtney xx


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